How Is That Supposed To Make Me Feel

Written by Kirk Hawley

Looks like a party, looks like a picnic
Just a little break from their Salt Lake City trip
Where as far as I'm concerned they could be flung right into jail
Moab, Utah, March 24, 1915, early afternoon.

The trade was pretty lucrative for pictures with those fugitives
With the women and their daughters and their sons
And as I rode up I could see some faces that were known to me
From looking down the barrels of their guns

CHORUS:
Those Indians out there running free
Like they'd never done a thing to me
How is that supposed to make me feel?

Next day when the morning came they put those Indians on the train
To Salt Lake where their cases would be tried.
And when they went to court that day the judge declared with no delay
That justice for their crimes would be denied.

I hear what they say downtown when they think I'm not around
At the barber shop, the Co-Op or the jail.
Old Joe, he's never been the same since that day he came home lame
You might as well try talking to a nail.