in the dust of west texas
where that lonesome wind
brings grit and dirt into every daily doing
i could not look back
when i saw real cowboys
thin as a fence rail
Spanish speaking
with big white hats
and stovepipe jeans
when the slow became so slow
midday heat became siesta
and there was nowhere to go
nothing to do
closed shops in a closed down town
so i sang a song
about the "good ole days"
of the Depression
and Woody
got depressed,too
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