Riding from the land of blood. Blinded by the greed and lust. Gonna reach Paloma when morning comes…....American.. ..River...., here I come.
Would you run, would you? Could you run, could you? Would you run for the gold.
Pony’s head is riding low. No more clay from his hooves we’ll throw. Gonna send my fortune back to Rhome. ....California.... I call you home.
Would you run, would you? Could you run, could you? Would you run for the gold.
Might lose it all in this one chance, trading my life for this dance, the whiskey in my puch is almost empty. Please, oh Lord, bail me out, make my pony strong and stout, trailboss says, “On day to go."
