I am the Lonesome Cowboy, walking alone, talking to the wind.
I am the Lonesome Cowboy, watching the sky for signs of life, seeing only clouds, feeling gray.
I am the Lonesome Cowboy, alone on a vast, empty plain, where only the wind talks, whispering with dusty breath.
I am the Lonesome Cowboy, walking without a care in the world, or a friend. In my pocket is a receipt for nothing.
I am the Lonesome Cowboy. Today is my birthday. So I am told by no one.
I am the Lonesome Cowboy, awake, alert, making notes on bits of paper, which the wind tears from my hand and claims as its own.
If I was a chicken I probably wouldn't be writing this without a contract.
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See if that helps.
Currently looking for an inexpensive hamster stretcher. Call if you have a spare.
