Sorrowful and soulful sounds come from the radio,
The Red Headed Stranger is plucking away on Trigger,
A whole different kind of cowboy.

Singing of times long past,
Of a woman long gone,
A woman he wish had stayed.

I use the last of my beer to walk down the smoke and ash,
Stubbing out my smoke atop a mountain of finished Winstons.

I look back on it now,
On the regrets that I've had so far.

Of trips not taken,
The could-have-beens that went undone,
And the Ones that had been let slip,
So it is here I find myself,
Drinking alone on this warm summer midnight.