| On a cold montana morning
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| On the road to idaho
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| I watched her order hot and black to go
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| And her boots and spurs and blue jeans
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| And the lonely in her eyes
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| Told me just how much she loved the rodeos
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| I asked where she was headin'
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| She said, the boise show
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| She took a third in butte just yesterday
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| No, she never has been married
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| And she probably never will
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| 'cause silver buckle dreams
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| Don’t leave time for standing still
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| Round and round and round she goes
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| Where she stops nobody knows
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| The miles are gettin' longer
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| The nights they never end
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| Old rodeos and livestock shows
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| Keep the lady on the go
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| Lord, she loves to run those barrels
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| And it’s the only life she knows
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| For now on fifteen seasons
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| The circuit’s been her home
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| And at times she misses kids she never had
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| But she wouldn’t trade a minute
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| Of the years that she’s got in it
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| 'cause she’s had herself some happy
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| She’s learned to take the sad
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| When I looked up from my coffee
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| I saw boise on her mind
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| She had that look of leavin' in her eyes
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| As she drove into the morning
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| It slowly dawned on me
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| How hard it is to tell a dream goodbye
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| Round and round and round she goes
|
| Where she stops nobody knows
|
| The miles are gettin' longer
|
| The nights they never end
|
| Old rodeos and livestock shows
|
| Lord, she loves to run those barrels
|
| And it’s the only life she knows |