Tan shirt faded, star dusty and dull, boots scuffed deep from day too full, sunset bleeds on a windless sky, heat still clings, dust devils run high, worn and quiet he stands out there under the nights bright moon, with the sunrise soon to be, caught in his weathered stare, the star he wears don't shine with pride, it's just the weight he carries inside, endless lonesome highways, roads with names long gone, mile by mile, he carries on, no crowds, no cheers, just Texas desert sun and air, a lone man posted anywhere, middle of nowhere, he doesn't show it if he minds, he's sworn to serve what's hard to find, a lawnman carved of sun and stone, in West Texas he rides alone. See more