Song Description
I had Willie Nelson in mind for this song. Kind of a cowboy thing goin' on, a solitary dude who minds his own business.
| Song Length |
5:30 |
Genre |
Country - Cowboy, Country - Traditional |
| Tempo |
Medium (111 - 130) |
Lead Vocal |
Male Vocal |
| Mood |
Serene, Relaxed |
Subject |
Life, Pride |
| Similar Artists |
Willie Nelson, Travis Tritt |
Language |
English |
| Era |
2000 and later |
| |
Lyrics
Outlaw (N. Ball/T. Saputo)
He rides past your door but he can't come inside
'cause the walls want his soul and the men hunt his pride.
There've been scores of good women with comfortable homes.
But his heart takes its comfort from being alone.
He thrills to the sight of a white picket fence
when the boards are all bust and the gate-post is bent.
He can't spend much time in any one place.
His horse starts to shift like he's falling from grace
and turns its long neck to the mountains that rise
from the mesa that circles the town on all sides.
And with a sharp tug on the tight leather reins,
these two silent partners soon vanish again.
Chorus:
An outlaw is outlawed from dyin' in bed
cause a bedridden outlaw is better off dead.
He'll just fall from his saddle and land on his head,
and when he stays down, they'll know that he's dead.
The buzzards will swoon and the coyotes will cry
'cause they know that a brother has set down to die.
The preacher will come, a bystander or two
to say a short prayer, then they'll drink until noon
with shots on the house for this man of the cloth
who'll pour out his heart to the booze and the moths:
"May God see the truth in his wandering ways.
May heaven have room for an outlaw who strayed
from the cover of churches and bottomless talk
whose words sprung to action when others would walk.
He rode all his life till he took a bad spill.
May the lord let him ride across heaven's bright hills."
Chorus:
An outlaw is outlawed from dyin' in bed.
'Cause a bedridden outlaw is better off dead.
He'll just fall from his saddle and land on his head.
And when he stays down, they'll know that he's dead.
Reprise:
So this was the life that an outlaw had made...
where a campfire guitar caught the sound of his dreams.
where the whiskey flowed down like an unending stream.
where hillsides and sagebrush all rushed up to greet him
where doctors and lawyers came dying to meet him
to see what it was that kept him away
from the sleepwalk that others pursue every day.
Chorus:
An outlaw is outlawed from dyin' in bed.
'Cause a bedridden outlaw is better off dead.
He'll just fall from his saddle and land on his head.
And when he stays down, they'll know that he's dead.
c Norman Ball 2003