Laying Working hands to rest

Swallow down the words Even if they’re nothing but kind

Opening up isn’t hard, it’s not even a concept you can grasp

Be alone and bleed out without an audience

Immortalized as an ever present outline working in a field

Someone whose hand was gentle and whose head was strong

Forever be tangled in your convictions; always let spiders out of your house and share your supper with the crows

And then you’ll be a cowboy like me