Charlie drove his cattle north this year,
And left them there to graze
And he turned his pony's head to home
To wait for better days.
Too long since there's been decent rain
The hills are brown and dry.
And his hopes have turned to dust here
In the valley.
Charlie drives himself too hard these days:
There's too much for him to do.
The ranch it won't support but one.
He does the work of two.
And city lights repel and beckon him
At the closing of the day
When the night sky folds her wings
Over the valley.
And the nights drag by like they'll never end.
Dusty days are all the same
And his anger swells like a tightened fist.
But there's no one here to blame.
Except his stubborn heart that holds him here
To watch the sky in vain for the rain
That never falls here
In the valley.
Charlie drives his truck to town today
To find something else to do
His new clothes don't fit him half as well
As his old clothes used to do.
And a cowboy's hat draws laughter here
And he removed it in his shame,
And left it lying by a doorway,
In an alley.
And the nights drag by like they'll never end
Dusty days are all the same,
And his anger swells like a tightened fist
But there's no one here to blame,
Except his lonesome heart
That nags at him to leave these city ways,
And pack it up and head back west
Toward the valley.
So here's our lonesome drunken cowboy
On unsteady tangled feet.
He's leaning on a window
Of a store on Second Street.
And he drives a fist through his reflection
And passes out on the front seat
Of his pick-up truck and dreams about
His valley.
So now he parks his truck on a windy hill
By a dry and empty field.
The mountains rise above his bandaged hands
As he grips the steering wheel
Well, who knows? the rain just might arrive this year
But for good or ill, he's home.
He lets the clutch out
And he drifts down
To his valley.
And left them there to graze
And he turned his pony's head to home
To wait for better days.
Too long since there's been decent rain
The hills are brown and dry.
And his hopes have turned to dust here
In the valley.
Charlie drives himself too hard these days:
There's too much for him to do.
The ranch it won't support but one.
He does the work of two.
And city lights repel and beckon him
At the closing of the day
When the night sky folds her wings
Over the valley.
And the nights drag by like they'll never end.
Dusty days are all the same
And his anger swells like a tightened fist.
But there's no one here to blame.
Except his stubborn heart that holds him here
To watch the sky in vain for the rain
That never falls here
In the valley.
Charlie drives his truck to town today
To find something else to do
His new clothes don't fit him half as well
As his old clothes used to do.
And a cowboy's hat draws laughter here
And he removed it in his shame,
And left it lying by a doorway,
In an alley.
And the nights drag by like they'll never end
Dusty days are all the same,
And his anger swells like a tightened fist
But there's no one here to blame,
Except his lonesome heart
That nags at him to leave these city ways,
And pack it up and head back west
Toward the valley.
So here's our lonesome drunken cowboy
On unsteady tangled feet.
He's leaning on a window
Of a store on Second Street.
And he drives a fist through his reflection
And passes out on the front seat
Of his pick-up truck and dreams about
His valley.
So now he parks his truck on a windy hill
By a dry and empty field.
The mountains rise above his bandaged hands
As he grips the steering wheel
Well, who knows? the rain just might arrive this year
But for good or ill, he's home.
He lets the clutch out
And he drifts down
To his valley.