by Michael Timmins A5 E5 Fifty miles from Dakota territory C5 E5 A5 Cheyenne scalp hangs from his belt A5 E5 Found him alone washing in the Bighorn C5 E5 A5 a steady aim and he bagged his game D5 A5 Pale sun falls without contest D5 A5 Here is obedient darkness G5 A5 He will not return A5 E5 White Cadillac, white man at the wheel, C5 E5 A5 white faces on the mountain, wounds that will never heal A5 E5 Black clouds overhead, old man says looks like rain C5 E5 A5 Thieves' Road winds to the Black Hills sign says South Dakota, U.S.A. D5 A5 Grass plains stretch to the horizon, D5 A5 not a soul can be found on them G5 A5 They will not return Bb5 C5 C5 Bb5 A5 A5 A5 Bb5 A5 Bb5 A5 Bb5 C5 C5 Bb5 A5 A5 A5 Bb5 A5 A5 A5 E5 Old rusted pickup and a mad dog in the yard, C5 E5 A5 purple paint peels but fails to reveal the bitterness that grows inside A5 E5 Cloud of dust in the distance, strange knock beneath my hood C5 E5 A5 Is it better to have words left unsaid than to have words misunderstood? D5 A5 Pale sun falls without contest D5 A5 Here is obedient darkness G5 A5 It will return G5 A5 I know it will return G5 A5 It will return.
