Come on in, cowboy,
Take a seat, throw your feet:
You’ve been ridin’ too long it seems
I can tell tell by the dust in your eyes,
I can tell by the weight of the lives ye’ve taken,
By the lies
That you don’t have to speak
I know the works, dealt the hand,
Now I’m the man with the goods
And you’re the man with the gun
It’s done
The dice were cast, you’ve made a choice
Now indulge me, let me be frank at last
I know that weary face, it tells a tale
Of one too tired for the grind
I hope you don’t mind
The ramblin’ of the old gamblin’ man -
And now I tell ya, my son
It may seem like there’s no other way
But the wind of the highway,
The way of the gun
So have a drink on me,
And don’t stay your hand
‘Cause for this rambler, death is a way to get on the mend
And you know, my chrysalis highwayman,
The path that you’ve taken is long
The winds of the road blow strong
So don’t go alone
If you travel light the winds will surely blow you away -
So carry a weight!
And if that weight be my life on your soul
Then let me finish that drink of a man grown far too old.
