Camerado

Camerado
See that cloud across the sun
Ain't too many places left to run
There was a time when we'd go anywhere the wind would blow
Camerado

Camerado
They are fencing off the plane
I hate to hear the whistle of the train
Next thing you know they'll want your pistol and your tobacco
Camerado

Got a piece of forty-four on fire in my chest
Out here on the mesa I will rest
If you could hand me down that whiskey from my saddle roll
Camerado

Now the light is dyin' in the sky
That ain't gonna bother you or I
Seen enough a dying to know almost all there is to know
Camerado