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   Written by Bing Limousin and PD Curasi © DreamHill Music 2011


He’s just an old cowboy

At home on the range

Sitting high on the saddle

And loose on his reins

His only real friend

A mare named Sycamore Hill

His pockets are empty

But his dreams always filled
Cowboys all know when

Their work is all through

A back always aching

A body, black and blue

A mind that is sleep-numb

Success is their pain

A butt always sore

And the dusty eyes strain


He’s always been a cowboy

At least deep in his mind

Just a feeling secure

When there ain’t nothing to hide

The rocking of riding

The job that never asks why

Looking off to horizons

Toward endless blue skies

Suddenly his phone rings

He awakes from that dream

He’s missing his quotas

His boss only screams

He’s late for that meeting

Which he isn’t prepared

He’s riding that treadmill

That don’t go anywhere
The bills pile so high

Like a thunderhead’s crown

You feel like a fool

You feel like you’ll drown

Owning more kinds of junk than

You ever could use

You’re the steer in the lasso

Being branded by fools

Climbs into his car-Wishing

It were that old mare

He drives through the cattle

The freeway’s a snare

His cell phone is calling

Just smiles on and stares

Riding off to that sunset

Without any care

He’ll probably get fired

He’ll probably lose face

They’ll say he is burnt out

Can’t keep up the pace

But he knows life’s for living

Of living life free

Those things that don’t matter

Are for those who can’t see

He’s just an old cowboy

At home on the range…