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Crobot
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Good Times in the Badlands
I went out to Rapid City, that's where they told me that he lived
He was the last known shaman of the Nakoya clan
This ancient descendant of Passaconaway
He knows the right moves to put existence back in into a dead man
The evil men crawling up from the canyons
My mouth feelin' dry, good times in the badlands!
Run Mr President!
'Pray to the thunderbird,' is what he instructed me to do
He knows where the bones lie; in fact, he scattered them there for you
Ridin' three-toed horses, a brood skeletal intellect
We need an army of fearless men to fight the tyrant government
The evil men crawling up from the canyons
My mouth feelin' dry, good times in the badlands!
Run Mr President, justice won't save you from necromance!
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Oh, lo woah. Uh.
Streaks of lightning strike the ground where we stand
Hear the howl of the wolf that leads us to the heavens, yeah
Light the cedar incense, pathway to the fourth world
Ashes to trees and ice to fire, this Indian gun for hire
The evil men crawling up from the canyons
My mouth feelin' dry, good times in the badlands!
Run Mr President, justice won't save me from the necromance, oh!
Nooooo! Yeah no, uh-no no no. Nooo, no woah oh. No no no no no no ooh
Good, good, good, good times! In the badland, yeah!
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