Letras
Even with a heart of gold, it's high time, it's high time to move along
Yippee-ki-I-yay
When the creek runs cold, with no ounce of gold, it's high time
He rode west through the hills to the whisper of Sutter's Mill
A knapsack of tools and herbs and outlawed thrills
A campfire still burning on the cold canyon skin
And on a bed of grass he'll lay down his head
Dream again about striking it rich at his next earth pick
Or will he die unknown, a John Doe myth
From North California to Baja, this prospector's seen it all
But when the creek runs cold, his Paso Fino's on an ambling line
A four-beat rhythm with a rambling rhyme, riding with a homeless horseman
My Rocky Mountain stood taller than the sheriff when he asked
Where do you keep the horse you rode in on
I live on the other side of the railroad tracks, across from the homeless horseman
He's gonna kick your ass along the boulevard
From North California to Baja, a legend to the stars
Yippee-ki-I-yay in America
We ride, we ride to be free
When the creek runs cold, without an ounce of gold
Still the richest man I know
A campfire burning on a canyon stone
Every snort from his mare says he won't die alone
The homeless horseman with a heart of gold
The creek runs cold, Paso Fino's on an ambling line
A four-beat rhythm and a rambling time
To the four-beat rhythm of a rambling time, riding with a homeless horseman
Yippee-ki-I-yay
Gas, grass or ass, everybody rides to be free
Ride to be free
My Rocky Mountain stood taller than the sheriff when he asked
Where do you keep the horse you' rode in on
I live on the other side of the railroad tracks, across from the homeless horseman
Yippee-ki-I-yay