It’s a haunting song. You’ve probably heard it late at night on a classic rock station or stumbled across a live version on YouTube where Donald "Buck Dharma" Roeser absolutely shreds for ten minutes. Blue Öyster Cult (BÖC) has plenty of hits—"Don't Fear the Reaper" is the obvious one—but then came the last days of may lyrics tell a story that is far more grounded, and frankly, far more terrifying than anything involving a cowbell or a reaper.
Most people think it’s just another road song. They’re wrong. It’s a true crime report set to a minor-key melody.
What Actually Happened in the Arizona Desert?
The lyrics aren't some metaphorical exploration of lost youth or a psychedelic trip gone wrong. They are a literal account of a drug deal that ended in a double homicide. In 1970, Buck Dharma was a student at Stony Brook University. He had three friends who decided to drive out to the Southwest. They weren’t looking for scenery; they were looking to buy a large quantity of drugs to bring back to New York.
It was a bad idea.
They met two guys in a desert area near Tucson. These weren't "businessmen" in any sense of the word. They were predators. When the deal went down, the sellers didn't want the exchange—they wanted the money and the silence of the buyers. They shot three of the college students. Two died on the spot. One survived by playing dead after being shot in the head, later crawling to the highway to get help.
When you listen to the line about "three friends" and "the sky was an orange red," you aren't hearing poetic fluff. You’re hearing a description of the last thing two young men saw before they were murdered in the dirt.
Breaking Down the Then Came the Last Days of May Lyrics
The song opens with a deceptive calmness. "Now is the time of the season / When the family's out on the street." It feels like summer. It feels safe. But the shift happens fast.
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The lyrics mention "south to the border of Mexico" and the "last days of May." This isn't just a setting; it’s a timestamp for a tragedy. Buck Dharma wrote this because these were his friends. Imagine being a young musician in a burgeoning rock band and finding out your classmates were executed in the desert because they tried to play a game they didn't understand.
The Fatal Choice
The middle section of the song is where the tension peaks. "They were central to the action / And the action was central to them." This is a sophisticated way of saying they were in over their heads. They thought they were the protagonists of a cool, counter-culture adventure. Instead, they were just targets.
The song doesn't judge them, exactly. It just observes.
The "Good" Man and the Lie
One of the most chilling parts of the then came the last days of may lyrics is the mention of the "good" man. "He'd be back in a little while / With the money in his hand."
It’s a lie.
In the real-life event, the survivors and the families had to grapple with the betrayal of trust. The song captures that moment of waiting—that excruciating pause where you still think things might turn out okay, right before the world ends.
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Why This Song Hits Differently Than Other 70s Rock
Blue Öyster Cult were often labeled as "heavy metal," but they were too smart for the label. They were the "thinking man's" band. They worked with rock critics like Sandy Pearlman and poets like Patti Smith. This particular track, appearing on their 1972 self-titled debut, showed a level of narrative maturity that most of their peers lacked.
While Black Sabbath was singing about fairies wear boots and Led Zeppelin was talking about Vikings, BÖC was documenting the dark underbelly of the American dream.
Honestly, the guitar solo is usually what people talk about. Buck Dharma’s tone is fluid, almost crying. But if you strip away the instruments and just read the text, it’s a noir short story. It’s Raymond Chandler meets Easy Rider.
Fact-Checking the Folklore
There’s a lot of nonsense floating around online about this song. Some people claim it’s about a cult. It isn't. Others think it’s about the band itself getting into trouble. Also no.
- The Number of Friends: The song says three. In reality, there were three students involved in the shooting.
- The Location: The song mentions the border of Mexico. The actual crime happened in the Arizona desert, specifically in the Tucson area.
- The Survival: The song ends on a somewhat ambiguous note, but the real-life survivor’s testimony was what eventually led to a sense of closure for the families, though the trauma remained.
It’s easy to get lost in the "coolness" of the riff and forget that these were real people with parents and futures. The song serves as a weird, beautiful, and grim memorial.
How to Properly Appreciate the Track Today
If you want to understand the full weight of the then came the last days of may lyrics, you have to listen to the live version from the On Your Feet or on Your Knees album. The studio version is tight and clinical. The live version is sprawling.
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The way the guitar builds into a frenzy mirrors the chaos of the desert scene. It starts melodic and ends in a sonic breakdown. It’s the sound of a panic attack.
A Note on the Song’s Structure
It doesn't follow a standard pop format.
- Introduction of the journey.
- The arrival in the desert.
- The betrayal.
- The aftermath.
The repetition of "The last days of May" acts as a countdown. By the time the song ends, the month is over, and so is the life they knew.
Actionable Insights for Music History Buffs
If you’re digging into the history of this track or Blue Öyster Cult in general, don't just stop at the lyrics.
- Listen to the 1972 debut album: See how the band balanced occult imagery with gritty realism.
- Compare the live versions: Notice how Buck Dharma changes the solo over the decades. It’s like he’s retelling the story with new perspective every time.
- Look into Stony Brook’s history: The 1960s and 70s at Stony Brook were a hotbed for the exact kind of culture—and risks—described in the song.
- Read about the "Occult Noir" genre: BÖC basically invented this. They took the scary parts of the real world and dressed them up in leather and mystery.
The next time "Then Came the Last Days of May" comes on your playlist, don't just bob your head. Think about the orange-red sky. Think about the "good" man who never came back. It’s a reminder that the most frightening stories aren't about ghosts; they’re about people who decide that your life is worth less than a bag of cash in a dusty parking lot.
Investigate the rest of the band's catalog for similar storytelling. Songs like "Astronomy" or "Before the Kiss, a Redcap" offer similar deep dives into narrative-driven rock that requires more than one listen to truly unpack. The depth is there if you’re willing to look past the surface-level classic rock tropes.
Ultimately, the power of this song lies in its honesty. It doesn't need to scream to be heavy. It just tells you what happened. And sometimes, the truth is loud enough.