With Heat In His Eyes,
And A Heart Burning With Anger.
Alone In The Midnight Blues,
There Goes The Lonesome Ranger.
Deprived Of Love, Deprived Of Affection,
Deprived Of All That He Deserved.
One Who Lived In A World Of Fiction
Now Weeps Alone In The Night Of Dead.
Asking The Gods -Å—where Those Days Have Gone
When It Used To Rain Happiness And Pleasure?
And Now Why I M The One Who Is Alone
Why Is There Shroud Of Sadness Of No Measure?-
But Still He Is The One Who Has To Walk.
Be It With A Companion Or Be It Alone.
For He Has To Win Above All The Folk.
And Be The Best Leaving The Masses Alone
No Longer He Cries But Only Peak,
In A Way He Is A Walking Danger.
Neither He Is Weak Nor He Is A Freak
He Is The Lonesome Ranger