He was an old time cowboy
Don't you understand?
His eyes were sharp as razor blades
His face was leather tan
His toes were pointed inward
From a hanging on a horse
He was an old philosopher of course
He was so thin, I swear
You could have used him for a whip
He had to drink a beer
To keep his britches on his hips
I knew I had to ask him
About the mysteries of life
He spit between his boots
And he replied
"Faster horses
Younger women
Older whiskey
More money"
He smiled and all his teeth
Were covered with tobacco stains
He said, "It don't do men no good
To pray for peace and rain
Peace and rain is just a way
To say prosperity
And buffalo chips
I all it means to me"
So I told him I was a poet
I was looking for the truth
I do not care for horses
Whiskey, women or the loot
I said I was a writer
And my soul was all on fire
He looked at me and said
"You are a liar
It's faster horses
Younger women
Older whiskey
More money"
Well, I was disillusioned
If I say the least
I grabbed him by the collar
And I jerked him to his feet
And there was something cold and shiny
Laying by my head
So I started to believe
The things he said
Well, my poet days are over
And I'm back to being me
As I enjoy the peace
And comfort of reality
If my boy ever asks me
What it is that I have learned
I think that I will readily affirm
"Son, it's faster horses
Younger women
Older whiskey
More money
Faster horses
Younger women
Older whiskey
More money
Faster horses
Younger women
Older whiskey
More money"