Give me land, lots of land under starry skies above
Let me ride through the wide open country that I love
Let me be by myself in the easy breeze
And listen to the murmur of the cottonwood trees
Set me up forever but I ask you please
Just turn me loose, let me straddle my old saddle underneath the Western sky
On my cayuse let me wander over yonder 'til I see the mountain tribes
I want to ride to the ridge where the West commences
I'll kick at the moon until I lose my senses
I can't look at hobbles and I can't stand fences
No, papa, don't you fence me in
Excerpts from "The Loneliness Of The Long Distance Runner" (1962):
"Well, I think that'll be all for now. Thank you."
"You mean I can go now, Sir?"
"Yes."
"All right, thank you very much, Sir."
