Me and my mother and father And a grandmother and a grandfather Were driving through the desert At dawn And a truck load of indian Workers had either hit another car Or just I don't know what happened, but There were indians scattered All over the highway, bleeding to death
So the car pulls up and stops That was the first time, I tasted fear I musta' been about four Like a child is like a flower His head is just floating in the breeze, man
The reaction I get now thinking about it, looking back Is that the souls of the ghosts of those dead indians Maybe one or two of 'em were just Running around freaking out, and just leaped into my soul And they're still in there
