New York Rodeo

No 8 second ride for these cowboys tonight As they start in the morning, losing daylight Their hats are now ties, tethering true Not breathing in clean air as faces turn blue Their motive, the green, but not of a pasture Not men of free will, but now slaves to a master When the bell rings, it’s chaos, not for a meal It’s a dog eat dog city, with true faces concealed They’re just… Cardboard cowboys in a concrete canyon Riding steel horses, reigning in their abandon Letting loose bridles, for no horses they ride Spending their days, cooped up, deep inside It’s a sad way And a sad day For New York cowboys Their fishing hole yonder’s now polluted with clutter As their southern boy drawl’s replaced with a stutter No chaps and no stirrups, no boots and no jeans Their lives are now over, at the end of their means The bull that they ride are the very stories they tell From wall to wall bouncing, not sitting a spell They are always in a hurry, no time for the rose Not much of a cowboy or anything, I s’pose They’re just… Cardboard cowboys in a concrete canyon Riding steel horses, reigning in their abandon Letting loose bridles, for no horses they ride Spending their days, cooped up, deep inside It’s a sad way And a sad day For New York cowboys