He got the high sign so he jumped a bus

Along the roads that wind on through

The hot Mojave and the Jericho

He'd start his whole life anew

And what he left behind he hadn't valued

Half as much as some things

He never knew



Right around sundown...

He got dropped off on a street in town

Where a grey old man looked him up and down and said

"Son, this ain't no western movie matinee

You're a long way off from yippie-yi-yay

'Cause I can tell at a glance you're not from 'round these parts

You've got a green look about'cha––that's a gringo for starts

Sometimes the only thing a western savage understands

Are whiskey and rifles and an unarmed man

Like you"





"So you gotta keep on the move!

Don't let that fancy paint job fool you!"

Then the old timer pulled him close and said





You've got a long way, I know

You've got a longer drive ahead

Through the bones of the buffalo

Through the claims of the western dead, and––

Just like the spokes of a wheel

You'll spin 'round with the rest

You'll hear the drums and the brush of steel

You'll hear the call of the west, call of the west

You'll hear the call of the west, call of the west





spoken

Harshly awakened by the sound of six rounds of light-caliber rifle fire

Followed minutes later by the booming of nine rounds from a heavier rifle

But you can't close off the wilderness

He heard the snick of a rifle bolt

And found himself peering down the muzzle

Of a weapon held by a drunken liquor store owner

"There's a conflict," he said, "there's a conflict

Between land and people

The people have to go

They've come all the way out here to make mining claims

To do automobile body work

To gamble

Take pictures

To not have to do laundry

To own a mini-bike

Have their own CB radios and air conditioning

Good plumbing for sure

And to sell Time/Life books and to work in a deli

To have a little chili every morning

And maybe... maybe to own their own gas stations again

And take drugs

Have some crazy sex

But above all, above all, to have a fair shake

To get a piece of the rock and a slice of the pie

And spit out of the window of your car and not have the wind blow it back in your face"





Now, from the high timberline to the deserts dry

Who'll risk dangling on some hangman's tree

To stake their claims on these prarie plains

While they say this lunch is not had for free?

Just like the spokes of a wheel

Who'll spin 'round with the rest

They'll hear the drums and the brush of steel

And I'll hear the call of the west, call of the west

(Yippie-yi-yo, yippie-yi-yo-ki-yay, yippie-yi-yo-ohh-ohh)

I'll hear the call of the west, call of the west

(Yippie-yi-yo, yippie-yi-yo-ki-yay, yippie-yi-yo-ohh-ohh)

I'll hear the call of the west, call of the west

(Yippie-yi-yo, yippie-yi-yo-ki-yay, yippie-yi-yo-ohh-ohh)

I'll hear the call of the west, call of the west

(Yippie-yi-yo, yippie-yi-yo-ki-yay, yippie-yi-yo-ohh-ohh)





spoken/shouted:

I used to be somebody!

I used to be somebody, do you hear me?

Do you hear me? I've been there!

I used to be somebody, god damn you!

I've been there before!

Don't walk away!

Well, you––you wanted unleaded?

Unleaded––that's next pump over, so keep on movin', okay?

No, it's out of order.