Passing through the Amarillo gate,
Abandoned in the Lonestar state.
He could never fathom why God led him this way,
Must be a reason why he treads on dusty plains.
The fiery sunlight has wilted his hopes,
Through these meandering roads, cowboy walks alone.
Rodeo fortune will pay the prize,
And the money earn't will suppress the want for family ties.
The cigar is rolled, as he smokes away his days,
Sun burning his weather beaten face.
A soaring eagle flies over him, the misfit.
As he plays with the thought of free falling from an oil rig.
He strays alongside the vacuous roadside, his eyes encapsulated with dark dejection.
The sky's pastel glow illuminates the desolate wilderness,
Where the purple Scorpion Weed thrives under the suns aggressive rays,
Radiating a rancid odour,
And rabid Coyotes patrol the mountains various nooks and crannies.
Cowboy is hopeless, his soul set in a sorrowful disposition.
Lifeless, like a dead corpse, wasting time, as his numbered days slip away
Like the deserts drifting sand.
The country of freedom is a lie,
A myth that's ruined this cowboys life.
He's treated like an outlaw, though he's not committed a crime,
And his forlorn attitude will remain with him, until the day he dies.