Me and my mother and father
And a grandmother and a grandfather
Were driving through the desert
At dawn
And a truck load of indian
Workers had either hit another car
Or just
I don't know what happened, but
There were indians scattered
All over the highway, bleeding to death
So the car pulls up and stops
That was the first time, I tasted fear
I musta' been about four
Like a child is like a flower
His head is just floating in the breeze, man
The reaction I get now thinking about it, looking back
Is that the souls of the ghosts of those dead indians
Maybe one or two of 'em were just
Running around freaking out, and just leaped into my soul
And they're still in there