Back in 1952, when atomic war was new,
the army ordered drafted hands to try the bomb on open sands,
twenty years on down the line,
for reasons doctors can't define my father's lungs were wasting like,
the life out on those testing sites,

Trouble's like a broken horse, that suddenly turns wild,
it rears and takes you off your course, and it runs with you a while,
and all you can really think about, is how to ride it out.

What ever phantom thing was there stole the doctor's and my mother's care,
Til finally with a surgeons blade, and end to that dark force was made,
Dad was spared an early death, but he kept only half his breath,
and a still full load to bear, five kids still in our parent's hair.

Trouble's like a broken horse, that suddenly turns wild.
It rears and takes you off your course, and it runs with you a while,
and all you can really think about, is how to ride it out.
Riding it out, Riding it out.
When trouble does it's best to make you falter, make you fall;
Riding it out, Riding it out,
You're high in the saddle if you're staying there at all.

Back in 1952 when my parent's dreams were new,
they could not predict the ways that life would interrupt their days.
But thirty years on down the line, well, they could easily define,
Why important dreams can die when it's enough to just get by.

Trouble's like a broken horse, that suddenly turns wild,
it rears and takes you off your course, and it runs with you a while,
and all you can really think about, is how to ride it out.
Riding it out, Riding it out,
When trouble does it's best to make you falter, make you fall,
Riding it out, Riding it out,
You're high in the saddle if you're staying there at all.
Riding it out, Riding it out,
When trouble does it's best to make you falter, I think about my Mom and Dad,
Riding it out, Riding it out,
They stayed in the saddle in the roughest rides they had.