Out by West across the roaring plains, o'er the warm Texas mountain range. Beyond the lonely Apache res to cacti dotted Mojave. Stories told of Cali gold mined in the barren hills, you find your score or pray on high that there's still a box o' pine. May you lay asleep under the golden sky, But that just ain't my life.
And all the cowboys turning drowned in whiskey. The piano stops its sweet serenade. In their fever eyes, they begin to wonder, what's there to say? "I'm riding out West to see California. Her eyes green like fields in a morning rain. Blessed be, the treasure the legend all sold ya. But I'm here to see California."
The young devil at the bar smirked. He has too much greed in his soul. He slammed his shot glass, ordered another, and dared me to reach for my Colt. Fire! Not an ounce of fortune from my pocket nor shares of promised gold. Just letters tainted in blood of sweet nothings to brave the midnight cold. Blood on my hands and on my coat, the devil fell to his knees. Why standing by the door was a woman so quick, she went entirely unseen.
All the cowboys turning drowned in whiskey. The piano stops its sweet serenade. Heart so heavy and burning like iron, Ma'am I have to say, "I've ridden out West to see California. Your barley hair smells of champagne. Blessed be, the treasures that find us. Yeah, you must be California."
