A Balladeer - Poster Child

The smell of the sage bush reaches your brain.
The scent of the pines from the snow-covered rain
you came out to Laramie, in search of a friend,
but the Wyoming wind wants to play with your pains.


Hang on, handsome,
we are going to get you out of here quick.
Hang on, handsome,
just wait, and watch out for the bicyclist.


The sun it goes down now, for a second black night,
it's you on the outskirts, not a soul here inside.
The beautiful sky has your last piece of hope,
the same old stars you saw through the telescope.


Hang on, handsome,
we are going to get you a new pair of shoes.
Hang on, handsome,
the bicyclist here, will know what to say and do.