He asked her twice to come along; They said good-bye at the break of dawn. 'Cause you can't hold back the wind, If it's meant to be again, Then somed… - 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.

The thunder rolls,
And the lightnin' strikes.
Another love grows cold
On a sleepless night.
As the storm blows on
Out of control,
Deep in her heart
The thunder rolls.

Not counting you I've never had a heartache.
Not counting you I never have been blue.
There's no exceptions to the rule;
I've never been nobody's fool.
I've never lost at love not counting you.