Some folks say that way of life is dead. But while they had the funeral, we branded 30 head. The water table's dry, no clouds in the sky. But somehow, we still get by.

Like Don Quixote and a knight in shining armor, rodeo and a cowboy on the range, kid playing in his daddy's clothes, this western holler will never be the same.*

They say I'm crazy, I think they're lazy, cause they'd never live out here with me. I just smile and shake my head, cause they don't see what I see. You can see for miles, dirt devil's in the sky, life's a gamble, don't call her bluff. It repels their kind, and they'll never see the diamond, cause life out here will always be rough.*

We're the backwards cousin of the Lone Star State, we'll grow that tale even taller. We'll cut our nose to spite our own face, just so we can say "Long live the western holler"*

This western holler will always be the same.