Out in the state of west Texas
Old cowboys, they all gathered 'round.
A family of friends from all over
To spread his ashes aroundIn the stirrups his boots were tied backwards
Buell led his horse up the trail.
You had to be there, he was cast in the air
I'll remember the rest of my days.Way out in that desert terrain
They scattered his ashes on the plains.
On a painted plateau,we had to let go
Of a man we were all glad to know.Cowboy Franky played fiddle
He had a great tear in his eye.
A friend, he had gone but he picked his own home,
A god place to rest when he died.Now he's just dist in the wind
He'd been every place that I've been.
In spite of injustice he always stood tall.
He'd a done it all over again.He was not a man of great fortune
Born of a mixture in race
French and Indian, Irish and black
He was slighted by all in disgrace.As a playwright his friend addressed the troubles of men.
He won a great prize of his day.
But his true friends were always the cowboys,
You heard nothing from them but their praiseThe song that was sung was one of farewell
Goodbye to the friend we'd known well.
A great man had died in west Texas
Gone to heaven from a life lived in hell.The cowboys' lament to his spirit
So moved me Icould not speak a word.
Dust in the wind is what he became,
I'll never forget what I heard.Now he's just dust in the wind
He'd been every place that I've been
In spite of injustice he always stood tall
He'd a done it all over again.