| The Wild horse he wonders up high on the mountain
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| He grazes on short grass where Bitter winds blow
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| He’s headed to nowhere with no time to spare
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| Storm clouds are building and lookin' like snow
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| With tight reins and curb chains can’t handle or hold him
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| He don’t fit in fences he’s way to high strung
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| His freedom don’t feed him and nobody needs him
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| He’s just an old wild horse, misfortunes own son
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| The old cowboy looks at his ropes and his riggin'
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| Their all he has left that’s worth caryin' about
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| Well him and that leather went through hell together
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| It seems like their both getting close to worn out
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| Well there ain’t too much call now for his kind of cowboy
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| There aren’t enough wild horses out there to run
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| Besides he too old but that’s all he knows
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| He’s just an old cowboy, misfortunes own son
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| Wild horses and old cowboys two of a kind
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| Yesterday’s heroes the time left behind
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| Wide open spaces are fast closing in
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| Misfortunes own sons you won’t see them again
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| The Wild horse is Weary, there’s snow on the mountain
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| No peace in the valley, full of highways and towns
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| The old man just spent his last day in the saddle
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| There’s no reason to ride now the old days are gone
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| But you can’t hardly blame them for trying to hold onto
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| Their own way of life now it’s over and done
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| Just lonesome reminders left over survivors
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| The old cowboy and the wild horse misfortunes own son
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| Wild horses and old cowboys two of a kind
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| Yesterday’s heroes the time left behind
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| Wide open spaces are fast closing in
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| Misfortunes own sons you won’t see them again |