Cold wind bites the rusted gate
Grey skies hold a heavy weight
Steel boots crunch on broken glass
Wait for all the ghosts to pass
Take a ride to Customs square
Heavy smoke is in the air
Hold your breath and keep it low
Where the dead men used to go
Black bags hide the silver prize
Fear is written in their eyes
Watch the treeline for a spark
Only hunters roam the dark
Take a ride to Customs square
Heavy smoke is in the air
Hold your breath and keep it low
Where the dead men used to go
Old roads lead to Dorms of stone
No one walks the street alone
Copper wires hang from the wall
Wait for one more hammer fall
Gold and guns for one more day
Pay the toll or fade away
Tread the mud and feel the chill
Now the city stands so still
Check the map and clear the bend
Every corner is an end
Scent of diesel, scent of lead
Count the living, count the dead
Take a ride to Customs square
Heavy smoke is in the air
Hold your breath and keep it low
Where the dead men used to go
One last fare before the light
Hide the loot and slip from sight
Turn the key and drive away
Hope to see another day
Take a ride to Customs square
Heavy smoke is in the air
Hold your breath and keep it low
Where the dead men used to go
Meter's running, pay the cost.
All the lucky ones are lost.
