The End of the Trail

At the end of the trail.
We are like cowboys at the end of the trail.

Everywhere we looked was concrete,
fast cars, trailer trucks, and speed.
No where for a horse to set his feet.
Sure was different when we used to ride
in the muddy water down on the Pecos.

Cowboys at the end of the trail.
Like cowboys at the end of the trail.

No room to swing a long rope,
no need to catch wayward calves.
running fast down a wide open slope.
Sure was different when we used to ride
hell bent for leather down on the Pecos.

Cowboys at the end of the trail.
We are cowboys at the end of the trail.

We can't roam around wild and free.
Fences and boarders and greed
put an end to that it seems to me.
Let's mount up for one more ride,
drift it on down to the Pecos.

Wave to the other cowboys along the trail.
The cowboys at the end of the trail.

We aren't as young as we used to be,
and our bones creak like old saddles,
but tonight I dream of being free,
to mount up for that final ride
to the soft shadows along the Pecos.

We are cowboys at the end of our trail.
It's the end of the trail.