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The shot few could say let alone take. The moon a target beyond heavens, futures at stake.
Lost in the order of what is right, what is wrong.
The stampede fed the tribe, it now brought tears.
We mourn the loss, the guide crosses the divide. One day each of us make our final ride.
This is a trailhead we must face with fearless cries. This one is sky bound then let it sing. What is life without a magic to our destinies.
Let us ride one more time, let our arrows land true. For when we ride we aim for the moon.
When we aim high we let our spirits fly. A dusk we ride for mornings light.
An dawn will know where the canyons lead.
Aaron Baker
Shoot The Moon -- Iron Tonka