I wonder who will make a statue of you?
An ex girlfriend, perhaps
still enchanted by your Southern drawl.
It doesn't really matter, anyways,
you'd just end up in a park somewhere,
collecting moss and pigeon shit for the rest of your days.
It's no kind of life for your sort,
you who should be out wrangling and lassoing,
doing whatever else cowboys do.
But after all of your wild adventures
will your memories make you
any less lonely?