| Cowboys on the road tonight
|
| Crying in their sleep
|
| If I was a hungry man
|
| With a gun in my hand
|
| And some promises to keep
|
| Wanted to change the world
|
| Watch as easy as murder
|
| It’s all headlights
|
| And vapor trails
|
| And circle K killers
|
| And I know I could look
|
| At anyone but you now
|
| I could fall
|
| Into the eyes of anyone
|
| But you now, now, now, now
|
| So come on, come on, come on Oh, come on through now
|
| Come on, come on, come on now
|
| Come on through now
|
| This is a list
|
| Of what I should have been
|
| But I’m not
|
| This is a list of the things
|
| That I should have seen
|
| But I’m not seeing
|
| Look in your eyes
|
| As these fingertips
|
| Slip on your neck
|
| And make you shiver
|
| I am just turning away
|
| From where
|
| I should have been
|
| Because I am not anything
|
| Oh, anything
|
| Oh The president
|
| Is in bed tonight
|
| But he can’t
|
| Catch his sleep
|
| Cause all the cowboys
|
| On the radio are killers
|
| And I am gonna leave
|
| Fuel of you
|
| Cause you never
|
| Make her feel
|
| Like anything
|
| She said I want him
|
| To feel a thing
|
| But I can feel
|
| I can’t feel
|
| I know I could look
|
| At anyone but you now
|
| I could fall
|
| Into the arms of anyone
|
| But you now, now, now, now
|
| So come on, come on, come on Come on oh come on through now
|
| Come on, come on, come on Oh come on through now
|
| This is a list
|
| Of what I should have been
|
| But I’m not
|
| This is a list of the things
|
| That I should have seen
|
| But I’m not seeing
|
| Look in your eyes
|
| As these fingers on slip
|
| In your dress
|
| And make you shiver
|
| I am just turning away
|
| From what I shouldn’t see
|
| Because I am not anything
|
| Oh, anything
|
| Oh Everyone’s
|
| Is in bed tonight,
|
| But nobody can sleep
|
| Cause all the satellites
|
| Are watching
|
| Through our windows
|
| She says
|
| She doesn’t love me Like-but she’s acting
|
| But it’s just
|
| If she isn’t talking
|
| Mr. Lincoln’s head
|
| Is bleeding
|
| On a front row
|
| While she’s speaking
|
| I said
|
| Come all you cowboys
|
| All you
|
| Blue-eyed baby boys
|
| Oh, come on all you
|
| Dashing gentlemen
|
| Of summer
|
| I’ll wait for you
|
| And Saturday’s a memory
|
| And Sunday
|
| Comes to gather me Into the arms of God
|
| And welcome me Cause I believe
|
| I believe
|
| And I know
|
| I could look
|
| At anyone but you now
|
| I could fall
|
| Into the eyes of anyone
|
| But you now, now, now, now
|
| So come on, come on, come on Oh come on through now
|
| Come on, come on, come on Oh, come on through now
|
| This is a list
|
| Of what I should have been
|
| But I’m not
|
| This is a list of the things
|
| That I should have seen
|
| But I’m not seeing
|
| You look in me And so please
|
| Won’t you look at me Cause I am not seeing you
|
| Look at me
|
| I want to make you
|
| Look at me Or I am not anything
|
| Oh, anything
|
| No, no No, no |