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…
