Verse 1
Town’s been bleeding copper dust
Company man says “Trust in us”
But the pay got thin and the boots wore through
While the boss man bought him a mansion view
Railroad tracks like a spine of steel
Running through what we used to feel
They took our sweat, took our Sunday morn’
Left us counting splinters on a porch half-torn
Pre-Chorus
So we loaded up under a crescent moon
No choir, no hallelujah tune
Just six hard men and a settling score
Waiting on that whistle’s roar
Chorus
Whoa-oh — midnight on the iron horse
We ain’t thieves, we’re a thunderstorm
Ride that smoke like a battle cry
Let the sparks light up the sky
Whoa-oh — hear them pistols roar
We’re collecting what they stole before
No saints here, just outlaws sworn
Midnight on the iron horse
Verse 2
Gold ain’t glitter when it’s paid in sweat
It’s a debt they thought we’d forget
Stamped with a seal and a company lie
While the widows watched their savings die
So we flagged that train on a canyon bend
Where the tracks don’t got no lawman friend
Conductor froze when we climbed aboard
Said, “Tonight you’re paying the working poor.”
Pre-Chorus
No masks on, let ‘em know our names
Crowe don’t run from a righteous flame
If the papers print it, print it loud
We stood up straight, we bowed to no crowd
Chorus
Whoa-oh — midnight on the iron horse
We ain’t thieves, we’re a thunderstorm
Ride that smoke like a battle cry
Let the sparks light up the sky
Whoa-oh — hear them pistols roar
We’re collecting what they stole before
No saints here, just outlaws sworn
Midnight on the iron horse
Bridge (Half-time, chant style)
(Stomp) — HEY!
(Clap) — HEY!
Steel wheels screamin’ through the night
(Stomp) — HEY!
(Clap) — HEY!
Settin’ crooked ledgers right
Gold in sacks, but it ain’t for keeps
Split it up on the widow’s street
If they call us bandits in the morn’
We’ll wear that word like a badge well-worn
Final Chorus (Bigger, gang vocals)
Whoa-oh — midnight on the iron horse
From the coal black smoke to the courthouse doors
Let the tyrants learn what the people are for
We ain’t starving anymore
Whoa-oh — hear that whistle torn
Like a brand-new rebel born
If loving justice makes us scorned
Then brand our names in iron and storm
Midnight… on the iron horse.
SilasCrowe