Me and my, uh, mother and father,
and a grandmother and a grandfather,
were driving through the desert at dawn,
and a truck load of Indian workers had either hit another car,
or just I don't know what happened,
but there were Indians scattered all over the highway bleeding to death.
 
 

So the car pulls up and stops. That was the first time I tasted fear.
I musta' been about four, like a child is like a flower,
his head is just floating in the breeze, man.

The reaction I get now thinking about it, looking back,
is that the souls of the ghosts of those dead
Indians...maybe one or two of 'em...were just
running around freaking out, and just leaped into my soul.

And they're still in there.