Lost My Buckskin

I lost my buckskin at the watering hole He ran away with my rifle, my jerky and my bedroll Tied tight to the back of the saddle I sure hope he starts missing me Feeling lonely when the only one that he can see Is hi'self in the afternoon shadows Lord, I pray he ain't got too far Cause these boots weren't made for walking And man, I hate talking to myself Nah he ain't yet broke from the herd But he's the best damn listener that I ever heard He don't have to say a word Reckon this is the price that I pay For freedom of believin' and dreamin' of a perfect day As the tumbleweeds jingle my spurs Lord, I pray he ain't got too far Cause these boots weren't made for walking And man, I hate talking to myself Found my pony in the aspen grove We agreed that we'd keep this a story only we know And I pulled myself back in the saddle