| Rising times at five, the red sun is still sleeping,
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| My pillow is my saddle, stars are my ceiling,
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| My old body is ackin', I got a young cold needin’breaking.
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| But you know I can’t complain,
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| Thank god something’s never change.
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| There is a storm somewhere that’s brewin',
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| Cause these old bones are creakin',
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| The cows will soon be down,
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| That ole roof’s a leakin'.
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| Got a truck that needs attendin',
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| And some fences needin’mendin',
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| And I know it must sound strange,
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| But thank God something’s just never change.
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| They fenced in all the free land,
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| And the old wells run the range,
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| Long gone are the cattle drives,
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| Since they brought in the trains.
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| But the hard work and the friendships still remain,
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| Thank God something’s never change.
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| Out here where nature rules,
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| Each day is a different battle,
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| And it still takes a man, working in the saddle.
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| No machine can break a bay,
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| Or bringing in a lonely stray,
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| So I guess I will remain,
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| Thank God something’s never change. |