Captain of West

Hills of rocky wind and tree East of here is nothing for me Winding river roams below Twisting toward Colorado Rain falls little here Nights like sleep no fear Stars so many poke Stay awhile there's time for toke Fog lifts slow in morning Cool nights of summer turning Puffy cotton of cloudy day True heat seems to stay at bay And near the lake where I still play Table of pine needles I choose to stay I watch the sun die back down So I might rest until I'm found