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• Artiste: Cuba Cuba
• Titre: We Rode
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We rode to the west. We're as wild as they come. A great pain shot right up my neck. The great plane like an open deck. Close-by the barman shot the thief. The law came with pistols in the air. Out-gunned but we didn't care. Sun down, fire upon the town, the town. We rode to the west. We're as wild as they come. We rode to the west. We'll head home when we're done. We rode, ahh. A great storm thundered up ahead. The outlaw, a bullet to his head. Sun down, piece upon the town, the town. We rode to the west. We're as wild as they come. We rode to the west. We'll head home when we're done. We rode, ahh. When your heart feels like an anchor, Where else is safe but the road?