one time while riding with my dad
in some vacation mode
i saw a yellow traffic sign
upon a winding road
the sign said "WATCH FOR FALLING ROCKS"
i gasped as it went by
at first i thought of meteors
and gazed up in the sky
i turned to father who was wise
to ask him what it meant
he said it was a cry for help
or so the story went
not far from here there lives a tribe
of indians, they say
and one whose name was "FALLING ROCKS"
just disappeared one day
he got the name when he was young
a strong boy, wide and tall
who loved to climb up on the cliffs
and dive from waterfalls
there was a maiden that he loved
"SWEET DRIFTING CLOUD" her name
because she'd drift from man to man
this filled him full of shame
and then one day he disappeared
twas quite the mystery
they never knew because of love
or accident, went he
the tribe had never given up
the people, sad and grim
erected yellow traffic signs
in hopes we'd look for him
my eyes were wet, my throat was lumped
ii'd help out if i could
can you imagine how i jumped
when rocks fell on our hood
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