Garth Brooks

Well it's bulls and blood,
It's dust and mud,
It's the roar of a Sunday crowd.
It's the white in his knuckles,
The gold in the buckle,
He'll win the next go 'round.
It's boots and chaps,
It's cowboy hats,
It's spurs and latigo.
It's the ropes and the reins,
And the joy and the pain,
And they call the thing rodeo.

On a prayer,
In a song,
I hear your voice,
And it keeps me hanging on.
Oh, raining down, against the wind,
I'm reaching out,
'Till we reach the circle's end.
When you come back to me again.

And what they don't see,
Is what is killing me.
It's blessing and a curse
That love is blind.

You know a dream is like a river,
Ever changin' as it flows.
And a dreamer's just a vessel
That must follow where it goes.
Trying to learn from what's behind you,
And never knowing what's in store
Makes each day a constant battle
Just to stay between the shores...and I will sail my vessel
'Til the river runs dry.
Like a bird upon the wind,
These waters are my sky.
I'll never reach my destination
If I never try.
So I will sail my vessel
'Til the river runs dry.

He was up in Wyoming,
And drew a bull no man could ride.
He promised her he'd turn out,
Well it turned out that he lied.
And their dreams that they'd been livin',
In the California sand,
Died right there beside him in Cheyenne.

'Cause what she's doin' now is tearin' me apart,
Fillin' up my mind and emptyin' my heart.
I can hear her call each time the cold wind blows,
And I wonder if she knows...what she's doin' now.

Mama was a looker,
Lord, how she shined.
Papa was a good'n,
But the jealous kind.
Papa loved Mama;
Mama loved men.
Mama's in the graveyard;
Papa's in the pen.

It's midnight Cinderella time that you should know,
There's gonna be some changes in the way this story goes.
It's midnight Cinderella but don't you worry none,
'Cause I'm Peter Peter the Pumpkin Eater
And the party's just begun.

She had a need to feel the thunder,
To chase the lightning from the sky,
To watch a storm with all its wonder
Written in her lover's eyes.
She had to ride the heat of passion
Like a comet burning bright,
Rushing headlong in the wind
Now where only dreams have been,
Burning both ends of the night.

Sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers.
Remember when you're talkin' to the man upstairs,
That just because he doesn't answer doesn't mean he don't care.
Some of God's greatest gifts are unanswered prayers.

Moonlight on canvas, midnight and wine,
Two shadows starting to softly combine.
The picture they're painting
Is one of the heart;
And to those who have seen it,
It's a true work of art. Oh, the red strokes,
Passions uncaged;
Thundering moments of tenderness rage.
Oh, the red strokes,
Tempered and strong (Fearlessly drawn),
Burning the night like the dawn.

She's anything but typical;
She's so unpredictable.
Oh but even at her worst it ain't that bad.
She's as real as real can be
And she's every fantasy.
Lord she's every lover that I've ever had.
And she's every lover that I've never had.

'Cause I've got friends in low places
Where the whiskey drowns
And the beer chases my blues away.
And I'll be okay.
I'm not big on social graces;
Think I'll slip on down to the oasis.
Oh, I've got friends in low places.

Ain't going down 'til the sun comes up;
Ain't givin' in 'til they get enough.
Going 'round the world in a pickup truck,
Ain't goin' down 'til the sun comes up.

When the last child cries for a crust of bread;
When the last man dies for just words that he said;
When there's shelter over the poorest head,
We shall be free. When the last thing we notice is the color of skin,
And the first thing we look for is the beauty within,
When the skies and the oceans are clean again,
Then we shall be free.