Now there seems no reason why I should carry on
In this land that once was my land I can’t find a home
It’s lonely and it’s quiet and the horse soldiers are coming
And I think it’s time I strung my bow and ceased my senseless running
For soon I’ll find the yellow moon along with my loved ones
Where the buffalos graze in clover fields without the sound of guns
And the red sun sinks at last into the hills of gold
And peace to this young warrior comes with a bullet hole