Silver Wheeled Pony

He sits on a porch that seen this town Live through hurricanes and tell He'll give you a firsthand history of each antique that he sells He's a six-pack tellin' stories, and inbetween the lies A sparkle shines, deep behind, the red in his eyes But he can't ride the range on a silver-wheeled pony And he can't see the crowd cause there's age in his eyes And he can't find the strength in his bottles of whiskey So on a porch in a wheelchair he takes his last ride His gravel voice chokes on tears when he tells of that day he rode And how the crowd stood when he straddled the mare So he tightened the grip of his hold Oh the wild pony kicked and the ladies did scream But the rope did not give way And he still tastes the dust off that old Mesquite ground Just like it happened today Cause he can't ride the range on a silver-wheeled pony And he can't see the crowd cause there's age in his eyes And he can't find the strength in his bottles of whiskey So on a porch in a wheelchair he takes his last ride Surrounded by his long ago, the sunlight hits the wall And casts behind him shadows of a young man standing tall But he can't ride the range on a silver-wheeled pony And he can't see the crowd cause there's age in his eyes And he can't find the strength, Lord, in his bottles of whiskey So on a porch in a wheelchair he takes his last ride