Above the fall line
Lake Tear of The Clouds
Acomo bled red
Rodinia, southbound
Manned but outflanked
They abandoned their posts
He shot a rider on the riverside
Staining his buckskin coat
With the barricades down
Cutthroat & sold
The Bear River ran red
So violently slow
So they ran to the hills
From Richmond to Roanoke
The phantom of the north is after me
Hatchet lay there cold
Writer(s): Michael York
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