July tried to take my mind with bourbon and disease
August gonna k** me if she can
But eighty-five hundred K west of here,
theres a place so true and dear: Colorado,
my ties for you, it's true Got a temper and an eye for truth
Got a shot to sh** sweet tooth And I don't need a day job where I'll wither every day
Heading for the mountains where I think i'm gonna stay Bury me at the rodeo show
The only home I'll ever know
Where the rivers run with rye
Gra** is fine and you can burn like inferno
Till all hell seems the lesser
Dead dreams at the rodeo show