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Dust on the saddle,
wind in the plains,
We held the leather,
we held the reins.
Riding those horses, so wild and so free,
The heat of the desert
was our company,
A lawless small town from the century before,
Where the outlaw would knock
at the sheriff's iron door.
Those rodeos are pictures in a fading frame,
Just silhouettes playing a dangerous game,
Cowboys and cowgirls around the wooden table,
Betting it all
on a hand that was stable,
We had the good times in the old days together.
Dealing the poker
while the tallow candle burns,
Watching the cards turn as the bottle turns,
Eighteen-hundreds dust on our worn leather boots,
Deep in the badlands we planted our roots.
Those rodeos are pictures in a fading frame,
Just silhouettes playing a dangerous game,
Cowboys and cowgirls around the wooden table,
Betting it all
on a hand that was stable,
We had the good times in the old days together.
In the old days together...
Oh, the good times... (hummmm)