1901. There beneath the August sun. A daring survey undertaken on the fly. . Colorado would request. Divert the river water west. For The Uncompahgre Valley was too dry.
I have hooted at the big man, I've howled at the waning moon. I have stolen from the rich, but I gave it away too soon. . Next to living, next to dying, I have no particular fears.
Bring it down until you hear. The haunted melody you've ignored. Drown out again. 'Cause you're afraid. Sometimes we might just sing along. . Run from who you are.