He's not much to look at
A hard-working hand
Riding that western trail
His hat's worn out
He's tall and thin as a rail
And he don't say too much
In the fire's glow
When the others are shooting the breeze
He stares at the stars
Hand on his chin
And they wonder what he sees
Its something to do with a woman
Down around Abilene
It's long since over and done with
But even a cowboy can dream
Not that he's sorry
For the life he chose
He's roamed to far for regrets
The longhorns have led him
'Cross thousands of miles
And into as many sunsets
When the silent nights
Give him room to think
There's a face he can't shake from his mind
It makes him consider
What life would be life
If he were the settling kind |