| I’d play the Red River Valley and he’d sit in the kitchen and cry
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| And run his fingers through seventy years of livin'
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| And wonder Lord has every well I drilled gone dry
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| We was friends me and this old man
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| We’re like desperados waiting for the train like desperados waiting for the
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| train
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| He’s a drifter and a driller of oil wells and an old school man of the world
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| He taught me how to drive his car when he’s too drunk to And he’d wink and give me money for the girls
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| And our lives was like some old western movie
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| Like desperados waiting for the train like desperados waiting for the train
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| From the time that I could walk he’d take me with him
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| To a bar called the Green Frog Cafe
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| And there was old men with beer guts and dominos
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| Lyin' bout their lives while they’d play
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| And I was just a kid they all called his sidekick
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| Like desperados waiting for the train like desperados waiting for the train
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| One day I looked up and he’s pushin' eighty
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| And there’s brown tobacco stains all down his chin
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| Well to me he’s one of the heroes of this country
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| So why’s he all dressed up like them old men
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| Drinkin' beer and playin' moon and forty-two
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| Like desperados waiting for the train like desperados waiting for the train
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| And the day before he died I went to see him
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| I was grown and he was almost gone
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| So we just closed our eyes and dreamed us up a kitchen
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| And sang another verse to that old song
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| Come on Jack I swear this time it’s comin'
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| And we’re like desperados waiting for the train like desperados waiting for the
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| train
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| Like desperados waiting for the train like desperados waiting for the train |