|
If you never left this place |
|
You might believe the world |
|
was dust and wind and sky |
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The days so hard that no one |
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save your mother doesn't drink |
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You don't ask why |
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The jukebox floats in smoke |
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in the red river bar |
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When you drive nine miles for a beer |
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and your eyes turn red |
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and your head is cloudy |
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You just can't think |
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It's late when you check |
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out the horses and the hogs |
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and tell them to sleep |
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so lat the cool air |
|
comes down from Montana |
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is thick and is deep |
|
You button your shirt |
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standing in the red dirt |
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beside the barn |
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Watching the stars |
|
it's night in Wyoming |
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and this is where the World starts |
