Every Friday afternoon, I hitch up the trailer. Saddle up ol' rock an' ice down the cooler. Drive that back road until it ends. At the Ropin' Pen. . There's rusted out pick-ups an' fancy rigs.
My conscience finally got to me. Workin' sixty hours a week. Leavin' her alone, bored to death at home. So, one day, I asked off early. . I dropped that bottle of wine.
Well, I'm laid up on a creek-bank. With a cold one in my hand. It's eighty-eight in the shade. I got the bait in an old tin can. . An' ol' Blue's been a barkin'.
The hood's up, the oil is leakin'. The bolt's broken off an' my knuckles are bleedin'. But the sun is shinin' an' the birds are singin'. An' so am I. .
You know if I'd seen her comin'. I'd probably tried to hide. But I came around the corner. And she caught me by surprise. . There was no ice cold shoulder.
Every Friday afternoon, I hitch up the trailer. Saddle up ol' rock an' ice down the cooler. Drive that back road until it ends. At the Ropin' Pen. . There's rusted out pick-ups an' fancy rigs.
There used to be a sign. Saying, "Welcome to Population 82". Just a little town with no line streets. Where I loved you and you loved me. . But there ain't been a day of sun.
I'm glad you picked up the phone. Yeah, I know that we both agreed. We'd leave each other alone. We're just wastin' our time. We know it ain't right. There's no goin' back but havin' said that.
We might call an old friend up an' lay an old grudge down. Tell somebody that we love, that we love 'em. We might turn a wrong to right shine a brighter light.
I'm on the 28th floor. Looking through the window. My boots are propped up on my desk. . And they pay me good money. To contribute, I know. But I'm Medina daydreamin' again.
We went to bed last night again, angry. It seems like lately, we been doin' that more an' more. I woke up still mad an' it scared me. When I couldn't remember what we were fightin' for.
You couldn't make you change your mind. Couldn't stop that mornin' train. I can't stop knowin' that you're gone. Like I can't stop Louisiana rain. . I pour this whiskey down my soul.
She's like the ocean that takes my breath away. Endless an' open and in a moment she can change. Like water flowin' and fillin' up my soul. No way of knowing how deep she really goes.
He left gravel flying, tears falling from her eyes. When he got home that evening he didn't apologize. He left a rose on the table, she let that be enough.
Exit 65, room 232. Its nothing fancy, ain't much of a view. Its no white house with picket fences. But we close our eyes and pretend. At our home sweet holiday inn.
A lot has changed since I've been gone. But not my love for you. And I promised you nothing would keep me away. So I came back as fast as I could. . And I still bump around this old house sometimes.
Two six packs of shiner. A ninety nine cent, butane lighter. Lucky strikes an' a fifth of Patron. Ice down that Igloo cooler. A tank of gas, that oughta do her.
Yeah, the sun is settin' on a hard day's work. Sure feels good to get 'er all done. Washed off the sweat, the hay and the dirt. Now it's time to have some fun.
Old Tuck was a cowboy I knew years ago. Could put a stretch in a story like a forty foot row. Young an' wide eyed, I believed every word. As he rambled through the canyons an' stampeded herds.
Every now and then I got out with a friend or two. And have a few rounds. I make it home by ten, but I remember when. I used to close that place down.