My Hollow Greeting
Pacing With the Lost
I crawled into Glenwood Springs with rotted lungs and the shadows of Tombstone at my heels. Death caught me in a sanatorium bed, but my spirit never left. I still drift from the streets to my grave in Linwood.
GHOSTLY LEAD
Blood In The Sunlight
The thunder of my pistol still rings in the quiet of this valley. That day in the dirt, I saw the life go out of men while I stayed stuck between breaths. The powder smoke never truly cleared; it followed me here, clinging to these very streets. Come walk where the echoes of that iron heat still burn.
Failing Lungs and Hot Fog
Waiting For End
I dragged my weary bones to Glenwood Springs, praying the mountain air and sulfur steam would mend what Tombstone broke. Instead, I found a room where the thin air tasted of copper and despair. My life ebbed away in this sanatorium as I watched the Colorado snow fall through the glass. Come stand where I surrendered. Visit the home of my last gasp.
Among the Pines
The climb is steep and weary, winding through the sharp scent of cedar and spruce. High above Glenwood, I linger by my headstone in Linwood Cemetery. I watch the living pull their coats tight against the mountain chill as they stare at the name I left behind. This earth may hold my shadow, but I am always tethered to this ridge. Come stand exactly where I rest and feel the cold of my gaze.