Gonna Be a Cowboy

Decided I'm going to be a cowboy. No use stopping me. It's happening.



Been looking a lot at my life. Wondering where I'm going. Why don't I do more things with cattle? Why don't I wear more leather?



Gonna buy me a six-shooter. Gonna break me some horses. Gonna live a life of independence and loneliness and unrequited passion like in "Wild Horses" or "The Cowboy Tango" or that episode of Care Bears where they "help a young rodeo boy learn that how you feel about yourself is what really counts."



Gonna eat grits and and wear wide brimmed hats and throw ropes at things. Gonna grow a mustache. Gonna wax my chest every morning and say, "Yes. This is where I am now. This is where my road has taken me."



I'll sleep on the ground and eat tumbleweeds. I'll curse and chew tobacco and drink hard whiskey. I'll strive to live the idealized portrait of a lifestyle largely outmoded by the invention of barbed wire and grazing laws and factory farms.



At night, I'll stare up into the vast desert skies, still untainted by light pollution, and realize my insignificance in the world. I'll clutch the hard dirt between my fingers, the sand and the grit and the gravel, as if the world itself were about to buck me out into the endless void. I'll sleep in restless dreams and wake in cold sweat. In the morning, I'll castrate a bull. I'll cry quietly to myself at the sublime beauty of the plain.



I'll swallow myself some cow magnets and stick myself to the side of a westbound semi and wake-up somewhere far away. Where my only thoughts are of roping and riding, of revolvers and rawhide, until my bones are interned beneath the rolling waters of some sacred river.

Let's go be cowboys right now. Let's do it.

Where have all the cowboys gone?

Not here, apparently.

Gotta go live with this bad boy.



Let's run into the sunset together~



My thoughts are still of Texas and of home!



Jingle Jangle Jingle!



In this town there lived an outlaw by the name of Texas Red!