Heartache number 1 was when you...left me,. I never knew that I could hurt this way,. And heartache number 2,. Was when you...come back again,. You came back and never meant to stay..
Put your sweet lips a little closer to the phone. Let's pretend that we're together all alone. I'll tell the man to turn the juke box way down low. And you can tell your friend there with you he'll have to go.
My home's in montana, I wear a bandana,. My spurs are silver, my horse is a bay.. And I've been a-roamin? all over wyomin?. There's plenty of work, but there ain't too much pay..
I was born in a hurry but there wasn't any place to go. Nowhere fast seemed better than nowhere slow. I never really got the hang of hanging around. .
Rollin' down a long highway, out to New Mexico. Driftin' down to Santa Fe, to ride a bull in a Rodeo. He's hooked on a feelin', addicted to a natural high.
Rollin' down a long highway, out to New Mexico. Driftin' down to Santa Fe, to ride a bull in a Rodeo. He's hooked on a feelin', addicted to a natural high.
There used to be a time candlelight and wine. Was all that a woman would need. Man you were a winner if you took her out to dinner. Or a movie she wanted to see.
He was just a hometown cowboy, his belly kind of fat. Acme boots up on his feet and a big U roll it hat. He was entered in the bull riding, he did it on a dare.
While driving down the last four miles of gravel road to home. All the old familiar landmarks seem like long lost friends. And as he pulls in to the ranch he sees his mom hangin' out the wash.
There's a place out west where the Powder River runs off the Big Horn Mountains. And winds it's way out across the plains. It's a land of red walls blue sky and clean air.
Well a few years back. Me and ol' John worked the Calgary rodeo. We were hangin' around town with nothing to do. And nowhere else to go. . And cowboys are known for their fun loving ways.
Just a rodeo drifter, he comes and he goes. Like a wild wind that blows in the night. The highways and back roads are all that he knows. He'll be gone with the mornin' gray light.
The ole man stands by the lone chute. He sold his calves today. He spits in the dust between his boots. As the semi pulls away. . Slick blue check in his grimy hands.
Pour my soul into my song. Playin' for the people all night long. I work hard for my money and I want it now. Don't make me have to tear your juke joint down.
Get up in the morning, fall out of bed. Go down to the basement, cook up a little meth. All the young folks love it, coming back for more. Ain't it good to be working, got your foot in the door.
I grew up near what they call the flats. Ain't too many people knows where it's at. Can't hear the highway, can't see a way out. I guarantee it ain't nothin' worth cryin' about.
Lisa used to love to dance. Ever since she was ten years old. Her bare feet raising dust on a yard. Where the grass wouldn't grow. . Slowly spinning round and round.
Her hair was as black as pike county cold. And her lips were as red as blood on the snow. She wore short vinyl skirts and them boots to her knees. And she lived in the holler across the mountain from me.
I pulled up to a cattle yard. Got on out opened up the gate. I drove down the long dirt road. To the banks of an old 2 acre lake. We had bonfires and barbed wire.
When life's a picture of black and white. With so much there that isn't tried. A gentle smile and you begin. To change the scene and color in. And leaden weights turn into wings.