Over yonder
where the sun don't tend to set right
lives a mean ornery ol' fellow.
A real sore in the saddle.
That's what they used to say.

Well they still say it
where I'm from.

But anyway
he's fond of goin' "yee-haw!"
But the locals don't appreciate it highly I reckon,
'cause every time -
how should I say this?
Every time he done it
the sun don't set right.

It hangs a little too low a little too long
in that big Texas sky.
casts a long, long shadow,
a kinda shadow that'll make a cowboy think
'bout steppin' outside in them
quiet, quiet fields.

Where the hay bale rots
'cause it couldn't make it to market.
And a coyote ain't seen a good meal in days.

you could pick a scab 'til it bleeds.
I'd say it's smart you don't.
Trust me.
Some yonders
ain't worth the effort

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