He got the high sign so he jumped a bus
And along the roads that wind on through
The hot Mojave and the Jericho
He'd start his whole life anew
And what he'd left behind he hadn't valued
Half as much as some things
He never knew
He got dropped off on a street in town
Where a grey old man looked him up and down and said
"Son this ain't no western movie matinee
And you're a long way off from yippee yi yay
Cause I can tell at a glance
You're not from 'round these parts
Got a green look about ya
And that's a gringo for starts
Sometimes the only thing a western savage understands
Are whiskey and rifles and an unarmed man like you."
"So you gotta keep on the move
And don't let that fancy paint fool you."
And then the old-timer pulled him close and said,
"You've come a long way, I know
You got a longer drive ahead
Through the bones of a buffalo
Through the claims of the western dead
And just like the spokes of a wheel
You'll spin 'round with the rest,
You'll hear the drums and the brush of steel,
You'll hear the call of the west."
Call of the west
Harshly awakened by the sound of six rounds
Of light caliber rifle fire followed minutes
Later by the booming of nine rounds from a
But you can't close off the wilderness
He heard the snick of a rifle bolt and found
Himself peering down the muzzle of a weapon
Held by a drunken liquor store owner
"There's a conflict," he said.
"There's a conflict between land and people
The people have to go.
They've come all the way out here to make mining
Claims, to do automobile body work, to gamble.
To take pictures, to not have to do laundry, to
Own a mini-bike, to have their own cb radios and
Air conditioning, good plumbing for sure, and to
Sell time life books and to work in a deli, to
Have some chili every morning and maybe, maybe
To own their own gas stations again and to take
Drugs and have some crazy sex, but above all,
Above all to have a fair shake, to get a piece of the
Rock and a slice of the pie and to spit out
The window of your car and not have the wind blow
It back in your face."
Now from the high timber line to the deserts dry
Who'll risk dangling on some hangman's tree
To stake their claims on these prairie plains
While they say this lunch is not had for free?
Just like the spokes of a wheel
Who'll spin 'round with the rest?
They'll hear the drums and the brush of steel
And I'll hear the call of the west
Call of the west