I'm sittin' in a city filled with people cars and smoke The walls are closin' in on me my heart's about to choke The world becomes a foggy dream and I no longer see The dirty concrete canyons where I have come to be Cause a cowboy rides the mountains and the draws inside my mind With his Buckskin underneath him and his pockets full of time And I can hear his spurs a jinglin' the chimes of his slappin' tack As his horse lopes up a ridge with the moon light on his back He rides into a bearin' country not meant for him alone For a lovin' dark haired lady waits for her cowboy to come home
Well his hat was made in Texas and his chaps are bat wing style His saddles made by Hauser he rides it all the while It glistens with silver conches tap adores for his feet He's got a chew of Copenhagen tucked inside his cheek In fact the only thing that saves me here from goin' plumb insane Is that cowboy poundin' leather down in the coolies in my brain And I can hear his spurs a jinglin'...Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
