The Trail Don’t End

Out where the sunset bleeds rust on the sky, A cowboy rides silent, just him and the rye. His hat pulled down low, eyes sharp as the wind, He’s chasin’ the echoes of places he’s been. The saddle creaks stories, the dust knows his name, Each hoof beat a rhythm, each mile just the same. He don’t talk of glory, don’t brag on his scars, He learned that the truth rides further than stars. His horse is his brother, his rifle his friend, A rope in his hand and no fences to mend. The coyotes cry ballads no greenhorn could fake, While coffee brews bitter by fire near the lake. He ain’t got no mansion, no golden reward, Just honor and grit, the cowboy’s true sword. He don’t need no preacher to know he’s been blessed, The lord made the sky, and the cowboy rides the west. So if you see dust risin’ high on the bend, Tip your hat kindly, that trail don’t end. A cowboy keeps ridin’ past worry and sin, ‘Cause freedom’s a place you carry within.