Lord, I grew up dreamin' of bein' a cowboy, and lovin' it the cowboy's ways. Pursuin' the life of my high-ridin' heroes, I burned up my childhood days. I learned all the rules of a modern-day drifter, don't hold to nothin' too long. Just take what you need from the ladies that leave, from the words of a sad country song. Cause my heroes have always been cowboys, they still are, it seems. Sadly, in search of one steppin' back of themselves and their slow-movin' dreams. Cowboys, especially, with their own brand of misery, comes from bein' home too long. To die like a colt in the arms of a nightmare, knowin' well the best days are gone. Makin' up hookers instead of my pen, I let the words of my youth fade away. Well, old worn-out saddles and old worn-out memories, but no water and no place to stay. But my heroes have always been cowboys, they still are, it seems. Sadly, in search of one steppin' back of themselves and their slow-movin' dreams. Yes, sadly, in search of one steppin' back of themselves and their slow-movin' dreams.