Don Bone

Seven miles past the edge of town, where the blacktop turns to dust,
There’s a place with no front gate, just some tire tracks and trust.
Flat land stretchin’ twenty-eight, where the silence screams your name,
Out at Don Bone, baby — there ain’t no rules to tame
We ride hard in the daylight, throttle wide with desert chrome,
Jawbone jams, Randsburg runs, we ain’t never alone.
Crack a beer at the bonfire, let that cold wind moan,
‘Cause out here, we ain’t just campin’ —
We’re livin’ at Don Bone.

Thanksgiving to Easter, you can bet we’re settin’ up,
RVs in a horseshoe and gas cans in the truck.
Kids on dirt bikes tearin’ up trails their parents paved,
While the old dogs tell stories ‘bout the wild and the brave.

Out to the ghost town, rollin’ in like a damn parade,
Dusty streets and greasy fries, laughin’ all the way.
Then back to camp we blaze it high, stack the wood sky tall —
Last night’s fire’s burnin’ wild, just tryin’ to torch it all.
We ride hard in the daylight, throttle wide with desert chrome,
Jawbone jams, Randsburg runs, we ain’t never alone.
Crack a beer at the bonfire, let that cold wind moan,
‘Cause out here, we ain’t just campin’ —
We’re livin’ at Don Bone.
Sunrise bleeds pink on the sand,
Windmills blink like beacons standin’ guard on the land.
Ain’t no neighbors, ain’t no fences, just the stars and flame —
Out here, we ain’t just ridin’ —
We’re rememberin’ our name.
So we ride hard in the daylight, throttle wide with desert chrome,
Burnin’ through the silence ‘til the sunset leads us home.
One last log on the fire, one last howl in the zone —
Out here, you ain’t just breathin’ —
You’re alive at Don Bone.

The only curse word out here… is “wind.”
But damn if the rest ain’t pure freedom.
Don Bone.
Where the fire never dies

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