23500
2
　
you got to be perfect in a non perfect world
out of clear simplistic style you know all the great while
we all must face a trial in this land so very mean
tossed and turned another page has been turned
　
the lonely cowboy out on the range with saddle
a brigade of dudes follow him but he don't care
blue eyes crying in the wind
in his solace he sees an innate vision something he's been wishing
　
the prarie is dark and desolate at time
he sips on his warm flask of whiskey
thunder comes from his hidden gait
make no mistake the fallen breeze whistles a storm
　
some would even curse the very day they were born
blue eyes crying in the wind
a good way in which to begin once again
he's not the sophisticated shoot them up type
　
nor is he ever looking for a fight
he gives way for cadence on his sun set brim
a time to refrain from his work
a pause to rest
