Brave men, cold hearts

He crossed the valley of bones on a horse with no name

Turned faces to sadness and hands to dry leather for fame

Sought fortune or glory to die whether lost or fulfilled

Playing Sweet Caroline to the twilit sigh of the wind

 

An old man quivers by the blended colors of his frosty fears

The cold west wind brought in fog from his lake of tears

Once more, the tone of blue and white weaves worry in his eyes

- had seen many years -

And the salty rain, by light, leaves flurries in the coming dawn