| The real people went away | 
| But I’ll find a better word someday | 
| Leaving only me and my dreams | 
| My cattle | 
| And a resonator | 
| I drove all the beasts down | 
| Right under your nose | 
| The lumbering footloose power | 
| The bull and the rose | 
| Don’t touch them | 
| Don’t try to hurt them | 
| My cattle! | 
| I drove them by the crops and thought the crops were lost | 
| I consoled myself with rudimentary thoughts | 
| And I set my watch against the city clock | 
| It was way off! | 
| One thing about this wild, wild country | 
| It takes a strong, strong, it breaks a strong, strong mind | 
| One thing about this wild, wild country | 
| It takes a strong, strong, it breaks a strong, strong mind | 
| And anything less, anything less, makes me feel like I’m wasting my time | 
| But the pain and frustration is not mine | 
| It belongs to the cattle | 
| Through the valley | 
| And when my cattle turns on me | 
| I was knocked back flat | 
| I was knocked out cold for one clack of the train track | 
| And then I rose a colossal hand | 
| Buried in sand | 
| I rose like a drover | 
| For I am, in the end, a drover | 
| A drover by trade | 
| And when my cattle turns on me, I am a drover double fold | 
| My cattle bears it all away for me and everyone | 
| One thing about this wild, wild country | 
| It takes a strong, strong, it breaks a strong, strong mind | 
| And anything less, anything less, makes me feel like I’m wasting my time |