His boots are old and tattered. His Stetson has seen it's better days. His hands are rough and calloused. And what's left of his hair is turning gray.
Well I ain't the type of cowboy that you'll see on TV. I wasn't near as pretty as Mama wanted me to be. Well I grew up on the ranches just cussin' all day long.
Since I saw that rodeo in 1965. I had to try to be the greatest bareback rider alive. I went and did some practicing on pa's old ropin' mare. And I thought I'd take that bronc I'd drawed.
The clickety sound of the southbound freight. And the high speed hum of a passenger train. Becomes a part of the soul and a heart and the mind. Of a boy who's raised by the railroad line.
Well, the sun came up this mornin'. My ain't it a beautiful day. Heard that highway callin'. Time to be on our way. . Girl, I never seen the sun shine brighter.
RURAL ROUTE CHRIS KNIGHT. . Verse 1. I built a fire up on the hill; I sat in the woods and drank my fill. Talked to God all night, took another shot at setting me right.
Maybe it's the movies, maybe it's the books. Maybe it's the government and all the other crooks. Maybe it's the drugs, maybe it's the parents. Maybe it's the gangs, or the colors that we're wearin'.
I've been workin' all week, I can hardly wait. I got a houseboat rented down on the lake. My pickup's gassed up and loaded up and ready to go. I put out the word to all my good-time friends.
(Vic Chesnutt). sitting in the breakfast nook. flipping through a saucy book. browsing for a bit of titillation. (that's what you do, that's what you do).
Married at 16, 2 kids by 21. But he couldn't take it. Now she's raisin' them on her own. Between the bills and the laundry. . Sometimes she's so lonely she cries.
Well, I hear that old John Deere tractor. At the low water bridge. Pulling them drinkers across. He's dragging so many on this Saturday night. I can smell that old tractor's exhaust.
Telephone to glory oh what joy devine. I can feel the current moving down the line. Made by God the Father for his very own. You can talk to Jesus on this Royal Telephone.
The sun is out. The sky is blue. There's not a cloud. To spoil the view. But it's rainin. Raining in my heart. . The weatherman says fine today. He doesn't know you have gone away.
Way out in the country where I used to live Lordy Lordy what I wouldn't give. To turn back the time and be a boy again and see the sun come up every morning.
They gave you a corner room on the fifth floor. The city lights were like candy to a kid in a store. Like a king you'd lay in your bed so state fully.
Sometimes I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. And it brings me to my knees. Sometimes, I feel as though the things I know I can't control.
By the banks of the river, where the willows hang down,. And the wild birds a'warble with a low moaning sound,. Down in the hollow where the water runs cold,.
Seventeen years, how could we know?. And thirteen years to make a flower grow. Tears that fell from your eyes. Were the one's heaven cries. For the children left to walk alone.
Red Light, Green Light, Go. . I'm watching red lights as they're fadin'. On the plane she is takin'. Feeling so forsaken. Standing alone. . With all the hopes we were floatin'.
We didn't care if people stared. We'd make out in a crowd somewhere. Somebody'd tell us to get a room. It's hard to believe that was me and you. . Now we keep saying that we're OK.