An old cowboy went ridin’ out one dark and windy day
Upon a ridge he rested as he went along his way
When all at once a mighty herd of red-eyed cows he saw
A-plowing through the ragged sky and up a cloudy draw
Away out here they’ve got a name
For rain and wind and fire
The rain is Tess, the fire’s Joe
And they call the wind Maria
Back in the cities they have different ways,
Football and eggnog and Christmas parades.
I’ll take my blanket, I’ll take the reins,
It’s Christmas for cowboys, wide open plains.
Full moon is rising, the sky is black
I heed your call I’m coming back
The road is straight cast, wind’s in my eyes
The engine roars between my thighs
From desert plains I bring you love
From desert plains I bring you love
Tire tracks and broken hearts. Lets get away from the past
So many ways to stay hungry baby, so many ways to go fast
Tire tracks and broken hearts, that’s all were leaving behind
It doesn’t matter what we’re losing
It only matters what were going to find
Let’s take a boat to Bermuda
Let’s take a plane to St. Paul.
Let’s take a kayak to Quincy or Nyack,
Let’s get away from it all.
I’ve been to Reno, Chicago, Fargo, Minnesota, Buffalo, Toronto, Winslow, Sarasota, Wichita, Tulsa, Ottawa, Oklahoma, Tampa, Panama, Mattawa, La Paloma, Bangor, Baltimore, Salvador, Amarillo, Tocapillo, Baranquilla, and Perdilla, I’m a killer
I’ve been everywhere, man
I’ve been everywhere, man
‘Tis advertised in Boston, New York, and Buffalo:
Five hundred brave Americans a-whalin’ for to go.
Singing Blow ye winds in the morning,
Blow ye winds, high-ho!
Clear away your runnin’ gear,
And blow, boys, blow!
Up you go, you’re drifting
Up you go, you’re floating
Over Tunisia
Over Spain
Over Germany
Over Poland
Over Scandinavia
Back again
Farewell and adieu to you, fair Spanish ladies.
Farewell and adieu, you ladies of Spain.
For we’ve received orders for to sail back to Boston.
And so nevermore shall we see you again.
Well, we were just another band out of Boston
On the road to try to make ends meet
Playin’ all the bars, sleepin’ in our cars
And we practiced right on out in the street
Down on the corner, out in the street,
Willy and the Poorboys are playin’.
Bring a nickel; tap your feet.
I’m a poor man’s son, workin’ all night long
Got a bad guitar and a simple song
You’re a rich man’s daughter
Look at what you’ve done
You went and fell in love with a poor man’s son
She’s a rich girl
She don’t try to hide it
Diamonds on the soles of her shoes
He’s a poor boy
Empty as a pocket
Empty as a pocket with nothing to lose
You’re so fifty light years ahead of your time
You’re a riddle, you’re a ripple
You’re the human sacrifice to the goddess of ice
Your hairdo is filled with diamonds and lice
Fortune has me well in hand, armies wait at my command
My gold lies in a foreign land buried deep beneath the sand
The angels guide my ev’ry tread, my enemies are sick or dead
But all the victories I’ve led haven’t brought you to my bed
You see, everybody loves me, baby, what’s the matter with you?
Won’t ya tell me what did I do to offend you?
All the gold in California
Is in a bank in the middle of Beverly Hills in somebody else’s name.
So if you’re dreaming about California
It don’t matter at all where you played before, California’s a brand new game.
Beverly Hills, that’s where I want to be
(gimme gimme) (gimme gimme)
Living in Beverly Hills
Beverly Hills, rolling like a celebrity
(gimme gimme) (gimme gimme)
Living in Beverly Hills
The heat is on, on the street
Inside your head, on every beat
And the beat’s so loud, deep inside
The pressure’s high, just to stay alive
'Cause the heat is on
Some like it hot, and some sweat when the heat is on
Some feel the heat and decide that they can’t go on
Some like it hot, but you can’t tell how hot till you try
Some like it hot, so let’s turn up the heat till we fry