Across the plain flew the lone grey rider Leather bag pounding on his back Above the clouds the moon was climbing higher A pack of wolves wanted their money back
With folded arms the chief stood watching Painted braves slipped down the hill In his ears the spirit talking As they closed in For an easy kill
At the house the door was wide open Wind blew curtains off the rod She was waiting and hoping She was praying to her god
He was luckier than most men He was barely in his prime As she stood there in the doorway Her long dress flowing Would he make it this time
Over the hill in the big green country That's the place where the cancer cowboy rides Pure as the driven snow before it got him Sometimes I feel like he's all right
Sometimes I feel like a piece of paper Sometimes I feel like my own name Sometimes I feel different later Sometimes I feel I feel just the same
