Comanchero

She found her way out on the open road.
a stolen horse on a homemade saddle.
The sun don’t shine on the trail she road,
one hundred miles form a losing battle.
Prisoner of the Comanchero,
have no hope that death won’t follow.

She’s caught up in the white man’s war,
but she won’t be a slave anymore.

The missionary killers that own our home
they won’t take peace and they don’t take sorrow.
She’s been gone too long in the rain and snow,
the towns are burning it’s the smoke she follows.
From the Colorado river to the Ohio,
she rides the night and hides tomorrow.

She’s caught up in the white man’s war,
but she won’t be a slave anymore.

Is there healing power in the crops we sew,
if the land is taken and the seeds are borrowed.
Is a bridge on the river gonna take her home,
when the water ain’t clean in the Llano Estacado.
When the water ain’t clean in the Llano Estacado.

Caught up in the white man’s war,
but she won’t be a slave anymore.

She’s caught up in the white man’s war,
but she won’t be a slave anymore.