If I could cry I'd ease this aching heart inside. But though I often try the tears stay hidden deep inside. They just won't start though none can take your place in my heart.
Way out west an Arizona cowboy tends the herd. The dessert lies beneath a sky of blue. Far away, in brightest day, a ghostly sound is heard. The phantom of the rail comes into view.
Ninety days since the country's seen a drop of rain. Forty-four since the grass began to burn. Thristy cattle are millin' round the old creek bed. . Dusty winds where the waters used to churn.