His hot passion burned like the mid-summer sun on the sharp rocks up near Santa Fe

He was young and wild and no town could hold him, at least that’s what they all say

Born in the East, he longed for the West and the true adventures it held

It was wild in those days, before there were cities and before the pine forests were felled

He learned how to ride and he learned how to shoot and he tried cowboying a while

But his passion for danger told him that’s not enough as he drifted for many a mile

Riding from Texas near old San Antone he drifted to Utah at first

Then Denver, Deadwood, Ellsworth, Cheyenne, just looking to quench his great thirst

A thirst not for whiskey or women or gold, but danger and chaos outright

He only felt good when the bullets would fly while engaged in a desperate fight

The Cavalry said he was too wild to train, like a mustang penned in a corral

So they cut the lad loose...that was no life for him...he was wicked and bad for morale

It seemed there was no end to thrills that he craved and no woman could tame him at all

More than one wise old cowboy took him under his wing, bound to stop his eventual fall

No one knew just what drove him or what demons chased him or just why he turned out that way

They all grew to fear him and they all knew that quite soon he would come to the end of his days

And just as they all said, he came to his end with a pistol clutched tight in his hand

Attempting to rob a poor general store at the head of a small outlaw band

And his wild passion cooled as he lay in the dust, the young man so reckless and wild

The crowd gathered ‘round and looked on amazed as he breathed his last breath and then smiled

Outlaw!