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… - Garth Brooks

Standing outside the fire;
Standing outside the fire.
Life is not tried, it is merely survived
If you're standing outside the fire.

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.

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.