| Faded dreams and blue jeans
|
| A Rangers cap with sweat rings
|
| There’s a hole in the sole of my favorite boots
|
| Well I’ve been at it a long time
|
| Working on that bottom line
|
| And every shirt I’ve worn
|
| The collar’s been blue
|
| One of these days I’m gonna jump right off that shelf
|
| And hit the ground runnin'-
|
| At least that’s what I keep telling myself
|
| I’ve been sittin' on the fence for way too long
|
| Warming that bench as chance moves on
|
| And believe me, that ain’t no way to live
|
| And this barely gettin' by is really gettin' old
|
| And it’s hard to turn a wrench on a rusty bolt
|
| But someday something’s gotta give
|
| Busted hands and broken land
|
| And black gold turned to sand
|
| The whiskey’s the only well that’s running deep
|
| Yeah the dust devils dancin' on the mesa again
|
| At the mercy of that west Texas wind
|
| And the tumbleweeds, well, they seem to know more than me
|
| Yeah they always find their way right out of town
|
| They never turn back
|
| They keep on rollin' and they don’t slow down
|
| I’ve been sittin' on the fence for way too long
|
| Warming that bench as chance moves on
|
| And believe me, that ain' no way to live
|
| And this barely gettin' by is really gettin' old
|
| And it’s hard to turn a wrench on a rusty bolt
|
| But someday something’s gotta give
|
| Ooh, I’ve been sittin' on the fence for way too long
|
| Warming that bench as chance moves on
|
| And believe me, that ain' no way to live
|
| And this barely gettin' by is really gettin' old
|
| And it’s hard to turn a wrench on a rusty bolt
|
| But someday something’s gotta give
|
| Man, I’ve been sittin' on the fence for way too long
|
| Warming that bench as chance moves on
|
| And believe me, no that ain' no way to live
|
| And this barely gettin' by is really gettin' old
|
| And it’s hard to turn a wrench on a rusty bolt
|
| But someday something’s gotta give
|
| Something’s gotta give |