Outlaw

I feel like an outlaw in no man’s land

My soul’s asking questions I can’t understand

All I had a hold of is slipping from my hand

I need to get back safe to the heart

I see the light in her window burning still

There’s a beating wind from the empty hills

Only one way to turn but I’ve lost the will

I’m stranded here in exile

 

I feel like an outlaw beaten from her bed

Driven from the door and a price on my head

Damned for every word I’ve said

I need to get back safe to the heart

I hide from every man I see

Shadowed by the branch of the hanging tree

All I need is a sanctuary

I’m stranded here in exile

 

Here she comes, over the bridge

Something there pushes me to the edge

Mind is slipping, fingernails on the ledge

I’m waiting on the border

 

High on the ridgeway a dark silhouette

Easy to pick off but moving yet

Walking to exhaustion and running to forget

Need to get back safe to the heart

This exile cuts like a blade to the soul

No other punishment feel so cold

My heart is willing but my spirit’s too old

I’m stranded here in exile

 

Here she comes out of the night

Mist in my mind and it clouds my sight

My self control is losing the fight

I’m waiting on the border

 

I feel like an outlaw don’t turn me away

I feel like an outlaw cornered, at bay

I feel like an outlaw forgotten how to pray

I need to get back safe to the heart

I feel like an outlaw alone on the moor

I feel like an outlaw rapping at your door

I feel like an outlaw lost to the war

That’s raging on the border

 

Here she comes – she doesn’t see me

I’m held in chains, she holds the key

Just one word could set me free

I’m waiting here in exile

 

The Marches had their fair share of outlaws, even though Humphrey Kynaston the outlaw from Myddle is rather less famous than Robin Hood the outlaw from Sherwood. You can still see Kynaston's cave on Nescliffe Hill and you can still see where he jumped the Severn on his horse Beelzebub at Montford Bridge.

 Outlaws love borders because they can always be on the wrong side of them.

When I was about 17 I spent a lot of time on the border and imagining that I was an outlaw. Then I learned from Bob Dylan that to live outside the law you must be honest.