(Kinky Friedman)
Faded jaded falling cowboy star,
Pawnshops itching for your old guitar.
Where youâ"š¬â"ž¢re going, God only knows,
The sequins have fallen from your clothes.
Once you heard the Opry crowd applaud,
Now youâ"š¬â"ž¢re hanging out at Fourth and Broad
On the rain wet sidewalk remembering the time
When coffee with a friend was still a dime.
And everythingâ"š¬â"ž¢s been sold American,
The early Times is finished and the want ads all are read.
Everyoneâ"š¬â"ž¢s been sold American
In dreaming dreams in a rollaway bed.
Writing down your memoirs on some window in the frost,
Roulette eyes reflecting another morning lost.
Hauled in by the metro for killing time and pain
With a singing brakeman screaming through your veins.
And everythingâ"š¬â"ž¢s been sold American,
The lonely night is mourning for the death it never dies.
Everyoneâ"š¬â"ž¢s been sold American
Donâ"š¬â"ž¢t let me catch you laughing when the jukebox cries.
You told me you were born so much higher than life,
But Iâ"š¬â"ž¢ve seen the faded pictures of your children and your wife.
Now theyâ"š¬â"ž¢re fumbling through your wallet and theyâ"š¬â"ž¢re trying to find your name,
Itâ"š¬â"ž¢s almost like they raise the price of fame.
And everythingâ"š¬â"ž¢s been sold American,
No place to go and brother, no place to stay.
Everyoneâ"š¬â"ž¢s been sold American
Just let that golden Greyhound roll your soul away.