Late July, a full moon night,
Down past Blanchard Springs,
There below that big moonbow
Is where I first saw Abilene.
Abilene, to hear you sing
Is like rain falling on dry land.
I gave her my heart and my granddaddy's ring,
But when she took it, it fell through her hands.
Skin pale as bu*termilk,
Eyes deep as wells,
A crimson choker made of silk,
And a life made of eternal hell.
Each full moon she's free to roam
This dale, and to be sure -
Each full moon she finds me there,
But I can never touch her.
Skin pale as moonlight,
Eyes black as the sky,
A crimson choker neatly tied,
Holds a bullet like a secret inside.