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(wheeew) (hummmm) Dust on his coat
and a shadow on the trail
Riding into town on a wind that starts to wail
He took the iron horse,
stripped the safe of gold The blackest name the border's ever known
He runs for the gang,
he lives on the run
A pocket full of silver and a loaded gun
No law
in the territory holds his name
The drifter's ride is a dangerous game
The stagecoach driver saw the mask he wore
Left the broken lock
on the vault floor
Every dollar goes
to the brotherly band
Dividing the spoils in the desert sand
The sheriff stands at the end of the street
The dust clears out under burning heat
Hand on the leather,
eye on the spark
One quick draw before the world goes dark
He runs for the gang,
he lives on the run
A pocket full of silver and a loaded gun
No law in the territory holds his name
The drifter's ride is a dangerous game
The dust settles down... (hummmm)