| I grew up a-dreamin' of bein' a cowboy
|
| And lovin' the cowboy ways
|
| Pursuin' the life of my high-ridin' heroes
|
| I burned up my childhood days
|
| I learned of all the rules of the modern-day drifter
|
| Don’t you hold on to nothin' too long
|
| Just take what you need from the ladies, then leave them
|
| With the words of a sad country song
|
| My heroes have always been cowboys
|
| And they still are, it seems
|
| Sadly in search of, but one step in back of
|
| Themselves and their slow-movin' dreams
|
| Cowboys are special with their own brand of misery
|
| From being alone too long
|
| You could die from the cold in the arms of a nightmare
|
| Knowin' well that your best days are gone
|
| Pickin' up hookers instead of my pen
|
| I let the words of my years fade away
|
| Old worn-out saddles, and old worn-out memories
|
| With no one and no place to stay
|
| My heroes have always been cowboys
|
| And they still are, it seems
|
| Sadly in search of, but one step in back of
|
| Themselves and their slow-movin' dreams
|
| Sadly in search of, but one step in back of
|
| Themselves and their slow-movin' dreams |