James McMurtry - Lights of Cheyenne

Lights of Cheyenne - James McMurtry 

Look off down the highway 
at the glittering lights 
Like windshield glass 
on the shoulder tonight 
As the diesels come 
grinding on up from the plains 
All bunched up like pearls on a string 
And I guess time don't mean nothin' 
Not nothin' at all 
And out on the horizon 
the broken stars fall 
Old broken stars they 
fall down on the land 
And get mixed together 
with the lights of Cheyenne 

Well I've been up all night 
and I'm down on my back 
Workin' the counter 
to take up the slack 
'Cause the money tree's light 
and the whiskey stream's low 
You ain't worked a week 
since July 
You say the gravel pit's hiring 
After the first 
But you don't have the 
nature for that kind of work 
You might get hired on 
But you won't make a hand 
And I'll still be here lookin' 
at the lights of Cheyenne 

You stand in the sky 
with your feet on the ground 
Never suspectin' a thing 
But if the sky were to 
move you might never be found 
Never be heard from again 

We go on good behavior when 
our youngest comes home 
She comes up from Boulder 
but she never stays long 
And that oldest still fights 
me like she was 18 
Stopped in for a 6-pack awhile ago 
And she's got a cowboy problem 
And this last one's a sight 
All dressed up like Gunsmoke 
for Saturday night 
And they were off to the bars 
for lack of a plan 
Racing the stars to the lights of Cheyenne 

And you've kept all that 
meanness inside you so long 
You'd fight with a fence post 
if it looked at your wrong 
Well the post won't hit back, 
and it won't call the law 
I look at your right, 
or I don't look at all 
Now take a crumpled up 
soft pack and give it a shake 
Out by the dumpster on a cigarette break 
With one eye swelled up from 
the back of your hand 
And the other eye fixed 
on the lights of Cheyenne 

You stand in the sky with 
your feet on the ground 
Never suspectin' a thing 
But if the sky were to 
move you might never be found 
Never be heard from again 

Now there's antelope grazing 
in range of my gun 
Come opening weekend 
you won't see a one 
They'll vanish like ghosts 
'cause somehow they know 
But now they're up to the 
fence in the early dawn 
And it's warming up nicely 
for this time of year 
The creeks are still frozen but 
the roads are all clear 
And I don't have it in me 
to make one more stand 
Though I never much cared for 
the lights of Cheyenne

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