He was an old time cowboy don't you understand
His eyes were sharp as razor blades his face was leather tanned
His toes were pointed inward from a-hangin' on a horse
He was an old philosopher of course
He was so thin I swear you could have used him for a whip
He had to drink a beer to keep his breeches on his hips
I knew I had to ask him about the mysteries of life
He spit between his boots and he replied
"It's faster horses, younger women,
"Older whiskey, more money."
He smiled and all his teeth were covered with tobacco stains
He said, "It don't do men no good to pray for peace and rain."
"Peace and rain is just a way to say prosperity,
"And buffalo chips is all it means to me."
I told him I was a poet I was lookin' for the truth
I do not care for horses, whiskey, women or the loot
I said I was a writer my soul was all on fire
He looked at me and he said "You are a liar.
"Son, it's faster horses, younger women,
"Older whiskey, and more money."
Well I was disillusioned If I say the least
I grabbed him by the collar and I jerked him to his feet
There was sumpn' cold and shiny laying by my head
So I started to believe the things he said
Well my poet days are over and I'm back to bein' me
As I enjoy the peace and comfort of reality
If my boy ever asks me what it is that I have learned
I think that I will readily affirm
"Son, it's faster horses, younger women,
Older whiskey, more money."
Faster horses, younger women,
Older whiskey, more money.
Faster horses, younger women,
Older whiskey, more money.
It's faster horses, younger women,
Older whiskey, more money...