When he was a boy dreamed of bein? man
Probably dreamed every thing that a young boy can
He?a lover, a fighter, a saddle bronc rider
An all-around hell of a hand
Chorus
And the spot lights on the sawdust that shines in his brain
And his dreams are the bones in his soul
And there?rivers of dance halls and wild, red eyeballs
On the road to the big rodeo
Well the chutes are all loaded, the riggins are set