Vaquero
hot runs the blood dry is the tide,
Hell is a feeling best left aside,
Alone I ride, with heaven on my mind,
Their sick on left and dead on the right,
I Drown out the sound and I turn out lights,
Cos I cant fight the coming of the night,
So I’ll walk the sand where eagles land,
And the last Vaqueros stands,
Out in the wild peace is the plan,
Violence is death to some kind of man,
And on their hands is the stains of ancient lands,
Shotgun or knife, lion or wolf,
The end is the same when they come for you,
And all you do is try to make it though,
So I’ll walk the sand where eagles land,
And the last Vaqueros stands,
And I’ll raise my hand, in heroes lands,
Where the last Vaqueros Stand.