Juniper Stories

I hear her like a whisperthrough the falling rain,her name is the storm,the scream inside everycrack of deafening thunder. And I got cold steel in my hand,a list of names carved to the bone,and my baby still speaks to mebefore the pull of a heavy trigger. No bullet can bring you back to me,you're hunting nothing but ghostsin endless rivers and dark valleysand what hurts the most is that no bloody vengeance can set you fre...