What I Do
By Gunslinger
There’s a thousand miles of highway- Between me, and my next show… And people often ask me- “Why do you rodeo?” I take the time to contemplate- Then what I say is true… I grin, and shrug, and scuff my feet- And say, “It’s what I do.” It’s how I earn my living- It’s how I make my bread… I’d rather not admit it, But no future lies ahead… For everyone that’s made it, A thousand more died broke. A victim of the whiskey- A broken-down cowpoke. Arenas are addictive- The lights, the sounds, the cheers- The raucous sounding buzzers- Are music to my ears. The pain, the strain, the danger- Are like a shot of dope- But when they’re gone, and you’re alone, You’re left without a hope. I’ll ride them while I able- I’ll give it all I’ve got… No one will ever say that I- Did not take my shot… So this will be my answer- Until the day I’m through… You ask me why I have to ride? Because that is what I do. Written March 24th, 2002 © on Mar 24 2002 12:16 PM PST, John R. Yaws 0 • 10
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"There’s a thousand miles of highway-..."