Way out in the canyons of the west, there's a wild river.The Spanish named it San Buena Ventura, but we knew it as the Green.It was daylight on the river, but we couldn't see the sun, and we couldn't hear our voicesthrough the roar.But we felt a boiling current and our blood was running cold as we headed down the canyon of Lador.And the gods were running with us on the day we ran the Rapids of the Green.And we died a thousand times in that forty miles of hell, the longest day of life we'd ever seen.But we lived to tell the story and we know the story well, the day we ran the Rapids of the Green.We were thirty-two in number when we gathered on the shore, and we headed off into the great unknown.But we summoned up our courage and we formed a mighty team and we ran that raging river all alone.Yeah, the gods were running with us on the day we ran the Rapids of the Green.Then we heard a thousand echoes on the mighty canyon walls as we shouted from the waters far below.And we saw the ancient warnings and we heard the ghostly cries of the men who ran the river long ago.And we prayed that they were with us on the day we ran the Rapids of the Green.Now the memories are whirling in the eddies of our minds, but the waters of the green are flowing clear.And the canyon of Lador will be a long remembered tale to be told around the campfires through the years.Yeah, the gods were running with us on the day we ran the Rapids of the Green.And we died a thousand times in that forty miles of hell, the longest day of life we'd ever seen.But we lived to tell the story and we know the story well, the day we ran the Rapids of the Green.Fire! Fire! Fire! Fire! Fire!