Where the Cowboys Live

There’s only so many ways I can write a song about a cowboy riding his horse cross the range Are there any new words I can use to describe the rugged mountains that tower over the plains What else can I say about them icy cold rivers that rapidly flows down from a snow covered peak Or the beauty of a simple life just living in a line shack right next to a slow running creek To tell you the feeling after a hard days ride the warmth of the camp roll that I made for a bed The sight of a full moon rising over the hill the cattle standing still and my belly well fed Is there another way to express how I feel bout all them stars a shinin' up there in the sky Or about how nature lulls me to sleep each night with the howl of a coyote or a night hawk’s cry How many more stanzas can it possibly take until you understand what a glorious sight Seeing all them old cowboys that you call your friend telling jokes and stories round the campfire at night Heck, I suppose it don't matter what rhymes I use or trying to find some new words for me to give You ain't never gonna know lest you come out here to the tall grass and live the way the cowboys live