It was on the day the cowboys were abandoned from the ranch. Middle touch world as a master. They rode their ponies down in the cities of gold. To leave them for ever after. Now the sun was swollen red and old. The earth it was windy dark and cold. Were the highway ends the desert takes its toll. Sodusty red and angry. It was a time when men died out on the praire. From not having a decent friend. At nights the ghosts to the more of riders. Was a howl in the candid winds. You can here them crying. Good god i think they're dying. When them rangers down in dallas. Had all but given it up and left. And those that hang on hoping. Was trying their best to to forget. The way those outlaws and desperadoes. Right from the cheapest to the best. Rode in on ponies made of skin and bones. Keep up their rusty guns and went back home. And the governor was sent down from population control. And marshall all was past. Riverboat gamblers put their money on faith. For the time for hope they passed. In the cold blue light of the desert night. There was a thousand starry ships. And men came down from still i don't now where. With death on their fingertips. Now there's no more kings in texas. I swear they rounded up each and everyone. And old atlanta canastoga. Reached from the rocky mountains into the old dead sun. Now anna maria walks the blames alone. The last of a struggling people. She thinks of all those outlaws who wanted to reach for the skies. And got stuck up on a steamboat. Oh you can hear them crying. Good god i think they're dying. In the wind you can hear them sighing