MusicGu.ru

(difford/tilbrook)



Theres smoke in the hills

And prints on the path

The moon dangles down on the hyenas laugh

And there are riders with guns by their sides

The wagon trains full of women and hides

The men drink and smoke to help pass the time

Men have their thoughts and plans to decide

And the dust brings the thirst to the mouths open wide

The wagon train leaves the hills

As the gold hits the fever

The wagon train tips the scales

Wagon train you can keep her



Theres gold in them hills

Its treasure to claim

A ghost in the hillside calls out my name

In the wind a roar as the tumbleweed tumbles

The rocks cast a shadow where the horses have stumbled

And we light up a flame as the sky above rumbles

Like the bellies that feast on a meal that is humble

And the rain slashing down as I shave off my stubble



Theres arrows that fly

As guns start to shoot

Theres mud in your eye and stones in your boot

With wagons on fire and women left screaming

Some left for dead and others left bleeding

Theres nothing left now and nothing worth keeping

The treasure was trapped and sprung when in sleeping

Not even the wind from the rocks is left breathing

(difford/tilbrook)



Theres smoke in the hills

And prints on the path

The moon dangles down on the hyenas laugh

And there are riders with guns by their sides

The wagon trains full of women and hides

The men drink and smoke to help pass the time

Men have their thoughts and plans to decide

And the dust brings the thirst to the mouths open wide

The wagon train leaves the hills

As the gold hits the fever

The wagon train tips the scales

Wagon train you can keep her



Theres gold in them hills

Its treasure to claim

A ghost in the hillside calls out my name

In the wind a roar as the tumbleweed tumbles

The rocks cast a shadow where the horses have stumbled

And we light up a flame as the sky above rumbles

Like the bellies that feast on a meal that is humble

And the rain slashing down as I shave off my stubble



Theres arrows that fly

As guns start to shoot

Theres mud in your eye and stones in your boot

With wagons on fire and women left screaming

Some left for dead and others left bleeding

Theres nothing left now and nothing worth keeping

The treasure was trapped and sprung when in sleeping

Not even the wind from the rocks is left breathing

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