Lights of the city are slowly moving.   Standing cold on the side of the road,   Poor man, I ain't got no home,   But tattered clothes and these railway blues.   I threw stones at the window for you.   There was something in your eyes   When that fiddle sang silent night.      Falling like a fever of every string.   Back in your memory it rang,   Somewhere out where you left me   With what it is, and all it's been,   Of what you took I've got nothing left,   But this fire burning in my soul.      I remember a cold winter,   Sheltered from the storm by the love you gave.   Now it's diamonds falling to the streets hustling   You'll let a thousand strangers in but keep me at the gates      Your words roll like smoke form the barrel,   Your revolver rings every time we speak.   Shot down, what have you done to me?   Well I hear that lonesome fiddle sound,   The silent night is rustling now.   This is my hammer coming down.