I Have Never Roped a Cow

If I had a horse, I ride off and rope a cow. And when I roped that cow, I’d write a book to tell you how. And if I was an astronaut, I’d fly around the moon. Take one small step for man, And be back for lunch by noon. And if I was a doctor, I’d cure all the disease. Get my picture in a magazine, And life would be a breeze. But in 100 years nothing will be the same. Not one remembed tear. No one will call your name.. Did you run towards the light did you hold our Father’s hand? Or is it all just a fairytale, Built on castles made of sand? But I’ve never roped a cow, Never flown around the moon No picture in a magazine, Just alone in this room. And I can’t write a book and tell you how, To move past the frozen pain of the here and now. You exited this stage, And didn’t even get to bow. How can a memory live inside a human brain? How can a man long for the water, When he’s never seen it rain? I don’t know how. And I’ve never in my life, Roped a cow. I’ve seen it done. But I can’t tell you how. To move on past the point of sorrow. Where memories have frozen me, In yesterday’s tomorrow. So today I’ll say your name out loud, Just to hear it said. Might even yell it in a crowd, To ease the scream inside my head. Meanwhile, I’ve never roped a cow. So I can’t tell you how.