You thought you'd found, found a good girl. One to love you and give you the world. Now you find that you've been misused. Talk to me, I'll do what you choose.
When you close your eyes and you fall asleep. And it's down to the sound of a heartbeat. I can hear the things you're dreamin' about. When you open up your heart and the truth comes out.
Sometimes love aint enough. And theres times just giving up is alright. No matter how much you want it to work. Someones gonna get hurt. . Sometimes it aint about whos wrong.
He wore a purple shirt a yeller neck tie some high heal boots that come knee high. Crocket spurs hangin' off his feet. The hair across his forehead was combed real neat.
She saw him for the first time in that open all night diner. When she served him up some chili and a beer. And the feeling that she got when he grinned across the counter.
Well it's Saturday night. You're all dressed up in blue. I've been watching you awhile. Maybe you've been watching me too. And so somebody ran out. Left somebody's heart in a mess.
Boots spurs and a pearl handle cap pistol and a gold mine that dug in the sand. I rode the fence line in her backyard each day on a stick horse I called old Dan.
The cool fall breeze is blowin' and the leaves are turnin' gold. And the smell of wood smoke takes me back to days of long ago. I think about my childhood, pumpkin pie and Halloween.
I was born and raised in the Red Clay Hills of Texas. In the land where the grass gets only beer can tall. That's where I learned to cuss and fight and chew Brown Mule Tobacco.
Way up high in the Sierra peaks. Where the yellow jack pines grow tall. Old Sandy Bob and Buster Jiggs. Had a roundup camp last fall. . Oh, they'd taken the horses and the runnin' irons.
Well, there's always been groups of people. That never could see eye to eye. And I always thought if they ever had. A chance to sit down and talk face to face.
I'm just a workin' cowboy this ranch I'm on ain't mine. But I got a bed in the bunk houseand a place come supper time. I don't get much for wages but it's good enough for me.
I left home with a suitcase, my songs and my guitar. Headed down to Nashville gonna try to be a star. The Nashville folks they made me feel like I was right at home.
The old man used to dream of the fortunes he'd seek. Now he lives in a room where you pay by the week. His hands are all battered and his pony's gone lame.
There's a rodeo in Montana where they come from miles around. Where they throw the hooligan and a bunch of beer cans. All over that little cow town from Friday night to Sunday afternoon.
Them bareback horses are the only thing. They make your back hurt they make your bell ring. They're hard on tailbones and they make your neck sore. But when it's all over you're craving some more.
I was six years old, my brother was ten. One July day came runnin' in. Seen a ferris wheel at the edge of town. So, of course, we headed on down. . Well, it took us an hour to walk that far.
It was dark and I was driving down a lonely Texas road. The night was hot and sleep pulled at my eyes. I was thinking 'bout the wild times and the women that I'd had.
He's got a broomstick horse called, Dynamite his very favorite friend. An old steed about four hands high that runs just like the wind. There's not an outlaw in the badlands that he can't apprehend.
I was waltzin' with my darlin' at the cattleman's ball. Lost in the music and her charms. I was glidin' around the dance floor. She felt so good in my arms.