well pick up and giddy-up
sing the song of the western walk,
of trailblazers crossing the mountain rock.
and if i head west, 
i guess this is my sacrifice-
my gift to myself.
along the way,
on these banks, i leave you..
Oh, i will leave you.
cause I've had enough;
of this life and love.

i could fill this river with blood and mistakes.
but there's only so much men can take.

do you hear the walls and the floorboards, singing sad 
songs?
these songs are about you.
and these are your songs,
and this is my voice,
the voice i gave them ,
to sing you these words.
to remind you, 
late at night,
to think of all the things we'll never get to 
do together,
and it is my fault,
i want to blame you, 
but its not true.

and now i hear the walls and the floorboards singing 
sad songs,
these songs are about me,
and these are my songs,
and this is your voice
the voice you gave them,
the day you left me.
but they don't say much anymore,
they just creak underneath my bare feet.
and let out sad notes with the weight of my lean

i am alone.

and i could haunt this town for years to come
and nobody will dare to come around.
they'll all say underneath their breath:

"who could love a ghost like you,
who could love a ghost like me?
don't believe a word he says,
that fucker's no martyr.
he's better off dead.
and i believe,
he got what he deserves.
i believe he got what he, deserves.
yes, i believe he got what he deserves."