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EVACUATION OF THE WEST (a.k.a. No More Kings in Texas)
- wykonawca: Bruce Springsteen
- album: Before The Fame
It was on the day the cowboys were abandoned from the ranch
Middle touch world as a master
They rode their ponies down in the cities of gold
To leave them for ever after
Now the sun was swollen red and old
The earth it was windy, dark and cold
Were the highway ends the desert takes its toll
Sodusty, red and angry
It was a time when men died out on the praire
From not having a decent friend
At nights the ghosts to the more of riders
Was a howl in the candid winds
You can here them crying
Good God, I think they're dying
When them rangers down in Dallas
Had all, but given it up and left
And those that hang on hoping
Was trying their best to, to forget
The way those outlaws and desperadoes
Right from the cheapest to the best
Rode in on ponies made of skin and bones
Keep up their rusty guns and went back home
And the governor was sent down from Population Control
And marshall all was past
Riverboat gamblers put their money on faith
For the time for hope they passed
In the cold blue light of the desert night
There was a thousand starry ships
And men came down from still I don't now where
With death on their fingertips
Now there's no more kings in Texas
I swear they rounded up each and everyone
And old Atlanta Canastoga
Reached from the Rocky Mountains into the old dead sun
Now Anna Maria walks the blames alone
The last of a struggling people
She thinks of all those outlaws who wanted to reach for the skies
And got stuck up on a steamboat
Oh, you can hear them crying
Good God, I think they're dying
In the wind you can hear them sighing
- album: Before The Fame
It was on the day the cowboys were abandoned from the ranch
Middle touch world as a master
They rode their ponies down in the cities of gold
To leave them for ever after
Now the sun was swollen red and old
The earth it was windy, dark and cold
Were the highway ends the desert takes its toll
Sodusty, red and angry
It was a time when men died out on the praire
From not having a decent friend
At nights the ghosts to the more of riders
Was a howl in the candid winds
You can here them crying
Good God, I think they're dying
When them rangers down in Dallas
Had all, but given it up and left
And those that hang on hoping
Was trying their best to, to forget
The way those outlaws and desperadoes
Right from the cheapest to the best
Rode in on ponies made of skin and bones
Keep up their rusty guns and went back home
And the governor was sent down from Population Control
And marshall all was past
Riverboat gamblers put their money on faith
For the time for hope they passed
In the cold blue light of the desert night
There was a thousand starry ships
And men came down from still I don't now where
With death on their fingertips
Now there's no more kings in Texas
I swear they rounded up each and everyone
And old Atlanta Canastoga
Reached from the Rocky Mountains into the old dead sun
Now Anna Maria walks the blames alone
The last of a struggling people
She thinks of all those outlaws who wanted to reach for the skies
And got stuck up on a steamboat
Oh, you can hear them crying
Good God, I think they're dying
In the wind you can hear them sighing