It's been a great ride, but here we sit tonight, the look in her eyes says something's wrong. This ain't a wild boar, it's just a barstool, but it's all I can do to just hang on. George Strait's on the jukebox in the corner, singing about cowboys riding away. But this ain't my first rodeo, someone's gonna get hurt whenever someone says we need to talk. Feels like there's a number pinned onto the back of my shirt, this is where the cowboy gets bucked off. Yeah, this is where the cowboy gets bucked off. You can go to Houston, Vegas or San Antonio and watch a bull rider hit the dirt. Or head down to this bar for a little cover charge, you can watch me get thrown by her. George Strait's on the jukebox again, says if I leave now I can still make shot in. But this ain't my first rodeo, someone's gonna get hurt, so hey bartender, give me one more shot. Feels like there's a number pinned onto the back of my shirt, this is where the cowboy gets bucked off. Yeah, this is where the cowboy gets bucked off. I think about those nights in Marina Del Rey, as this beautiful cowgirl slips away. But the pain only lasts so long, and when you get bucked off, you get back on. Feels like there's a number pinned onto the back of my shirt, this is where the cowboy gets bucked off. Yeah, this is where the cowboy gets bucked off. Yeah, this is where the cowboy gets bucked off.