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{acoustic
guitar picking} {pedal steel swell} (hm-mmmmm) {quiet whistle} Leaving tire tracks
in the dry red clay
Before the morning sun
can burn the fog away
{subtle brush snare} There's a wild wind calling from the mountain peak
Singing all the secrets that we never speak We are cowboys riding
on a shifting range Searching for a land that doesn't want to
change
(ooh-ooh) Fences stretching out
to the horizon line
Marking boundaries
of a different time
{muted telecaster stabs} And the old ways are fading
Like a campfire in the rain {crying fiddle solo} {swelling intensity} There's
a wild wind calling from the mountain peak
Singing all the secrets that we never speak We are cowboys riding
on a shifting range
Searching for a land that doesn't want to change (yeah)
Just riding on... (hm-mmmmm)
{whistle fades out} {acoustic guitar decay}