And all your dreams are new

across the plains 

The hush that only exists in that land at sunrise 

Like the much tauted calm before The storm but drawn out like the road ahead, facing your rcecutiober head on, when he runs out of bullets.
This is The badlands

No mistaking 

Time I was on my way 

But still 

Much obliged 
1976 taking route 522 as rite of passage 

The time  has come

to be gone 

But the wind won’t blow, 

you really shouldn’t go,

 it only goes to show

That you will be mine, 

by taking our time


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