In the shadow of the mountains, the sun beats down,
A man named Tree is searching, where legends are made.
Whispers in the canyon, tales of gold untold,
The Lost Dutchman’s treasure, a dream worth more than gold.
In the desert heat,
With the spirit of the mountain, his heart still beats.
When a chill runs through you, feel his presence near,
It’s just my brother watching, have no fear.
Through the rocky ridges, where the eagles soar,
He wanders with a purpose, forever searching more.
When the night falls heavy, and the stars align,
You can hear his echoes, of a treasure stories so divine.
In the desert heat,
With the spirit of the mountain, his heart stills beats.
When a chill runs through you, feel his presence near,
It’s just my brother watching, have no fear.
If you see a shadow, moving like the wind,
A tall, dark figure, where the stories begin.
He’s racing up the mountains, faster than the light,
A guardian of the treasure, in the dead of night.
In the desert heat,
With the spirit of the mountain, his heart still beats.
When a chill runs through you, feel his presence near,
It’s just my brother watching, have no fear.
So take a knee and say a few words, send a prayer to the sky,
To my brother named Tree, under the stars up high.
In the Superstition Mountains, his spirit roams free,
Searching for the lost gold, forever wild and free.