Stale Piece of Pie
Sometimes life is a stale piece of pie
Sometimes people only think of “I”
Sometimes all I get are the crumbs
Sometimes I just sit and twiddle my thumbs
All I get are leftovers, dried out tired remnants
I want to make you a coat of cement
I should be happy with what I got
But I’m not!
“Broken hearts and dogs that die”
Broken hearts and dogs that die
Lonely days and men that cry
Seems to be the theme of most
All Cowboys who play a tune, or sing, or boast
But it was never sadness or tragedy endured
That called those men to the west or cajoled them or lured
So why sing of the horse with the rock stuck in his shoe?
Is it so hard to croon of meadows damp and sparkling with silver dew?
Why do Cowboys think each tale should be loaded with distress?
Writing or singing of happy days does not make a story less
To capture listening ears who said the story must be sad?
Or demand you tell of loneliness or conditions that are bad
Let people hear of the joy you feel with wind upon your face
Or when you wed your sweetheart in her gown of ivory lace
Don’t spread the lie and say your life is only pain and woe
And set aside deceitful words that echo over radio
For just this once please tell the truth; you live the life you love!
With prairie as your pillow as you gaze at stars above
I know you have a secret, it’s the one you won’t betray
The mysteries of the universe are in the Cowboy Way