Lyrics

[Chorus] There are no roads here There are no signposts To guide a man Through this dark land There are no roads here There is no history No written law To stay one's hand [Verse 1] Well there's a growed-over wagon trail that's headed for the west An' there's a tipi ring at the purple springs, if your ponies need their rest There's a shepherd out in Vaxhaull in the coulees who may know But the sheep shacks old an' leanin' and that was sixty years ago [Chorus] There are no roads here There are no signposts To guide a man Through this dark land There are no roads here There is no history No written law To stay one's hand [Verse 2] Well I see handcarts pulled by desperate settlers bent under the yoke Fleeing lives of certain serfdom for this new faith of which he spoke Treking 'cross the desert with a few intrepid Danes There's times I still think I can feel the blood of Vikings in my veins [Verse 3] I hear 'strawberry roan' and there's bison bones been bleached out in the sun South of Raymond, whiskey trade, the antelope still run Hidden family reasons at the edge of consciousness Silhouettes of grazing cattle on that old Milk River ridge [Chorus x2] There are no roads here There are no signposts To guide a man Through this dark land There are no roads here There is no history No written law To stay one's hand There are no roads here There are no signposts To guide a man Through this dark land There are no roads here There is no history No written law To stay one's hand No written law To stay one's hand