Colt Stands Up, Grows Horns
by Serj Tankian
I follow the trail you left in the snow.
Picked up your footsteps and made them my own.
One thousand and one. One thousand and two.
Oh, the gravity of you…
Picked up your footsteps and made them my own.
One thousand and one. One thousand and two.
Oh, the gravity of you…
You gave me an item, when you gave me these idle hands
And you twist up the wind, ‘til the snow turns to sand and I can’t find the trail back home.
And you twist up the wind, ‘til the snow turns to sand and I can’t find the trail back home.