Their slings and their arrows
Couldn’t keep me in check
I burnt all my bridges
To a physical wreck

Flowers on the table
And a velveteen arm
I pray God and money
Never put me to harm

I’ve never owned nothing
That made me feel so proud
As this dead Comanche
And this sad old hole in the ground

I wake up in the morning
Then I’ll putter around
I’ll start counting sheep once
All the wolves have been found

It’s a sorry battalion
That chomps at the bit
You’ve got to know when to hustle
You’ve got to know when to quit

But what a day for a showdown
I’m pacing and taping my palms
Cuz I’ll sure miss Montana
When I am dead and gone

You can call me Custer
And who would object?
I’m so full of fight and
My scalp’s in a wreck

In the heat of the battle
Look how I behaved
With my gun, and my saddle,
And a curse on my name

But woah, I kind of made it
I bet you, you never forgot
How I went down swinging
Oh, my God!