Written on a stormy day in Evergreen, Colorado...

Across a lone Texas prairie
Rode the cowboy all alone.
A drifter, a nomad, just a cowboy
Tryin' to find a home.

The sky became all stormy
Thunder cracked the sky,
Somehow the lonesome cowboy
Knew this was his night to die.

The clouds passed behind the silver dollar moon.
He found a place to rest his cold bones.
With his saddle as his pillow
He listened to the moans
of the wind
As it recited the end
To his dusty days on earth.

Rain cried from the sky
Falling into his weary face.
The lonesome cowboy realized
He'd never find a place
To really call his own,
For he'd been destined to be all alone.

He'd been a gunslinger
Even though it was now in the past.
The cowboy thought he was alone
But sensed someone sneakin' up behind him,
Someone he'd once known.

A cold, hard face stared into his.
The cowboy drew his Colt. 45
Two shots rang out as thunder roared,
Only the cowboy left alive.

He rode off with blood running down his
chest,
The wind seemed to cry out his name so low...
The cowboy knew his end was near
And wished it weren't really so...
He still had so much of life to live and yet...
What he had done was so wrong.
As he looked to the clearing Texas sky
He could hear the wind singing his song.

His last view was of a golden sun
Comin' up through the dyin' storm...
His very last thoughts was how pretty it was.
And he wasn't cold anymore...
But so warm.