In the morning you go gunning. For the man who stole your water. And you fire till he is done in. But they catch you at the border. And the mourners are all singing.
This is the day of the expanding man. That shape is my shade. There where I used to stand. It seems like only yesterday. I gazed through the glass. At ramblers, wild gamblers.
In the mornin' you go gunnin' for the man who stole your water. And you fire till he is done in but they catch you at the border. And the mourners are all singin' as they drag you by your feet.