He was an old time cowboy, don't you understand
His eyes were sharp as razor blades, his face was leather tan
His toes were pointed inward from a hanging on a horse
He was an old philosopher of course

He was so thin I swear you could have used him for a whip
He had to drink a beer to keep his britches on his hips
I knew I had to ask him about the mysteries of life
He spit between his boots and he replied:

It's faster horses, younger women, older whiskey and more money

He smiled and all his teeth were covered with tobacco stains
He said it don't do men no good to pray for peace and rain
Peace and rain is just a way to save prosperity
And buffalo chips is all that means to me

I told him I was a poet, I was looking for the truth
I do not care for horses, whiskey, women or the loot
I said I was a writer, my soul was all on fire
He looked at me and he said you are a liar

Son, it's faster horses, younger women, older whiskey and more money

Well, I was disillusioned if I say the least
I grabbed him by the collar and I jerked him to his feet
There was something cold and shiny laying by my head
So I started to believe the things he said

Well, my poet days are over and I'm back to being me
As I enjoy the peace and comfort of reality
If my boy ever asks me what it is that I have learned 
I think that I will readily affirm

Son, it's faster horses, younger women, older whiskey and more money
Faster horses, younger women, older whiskey and more money
Faster horses, younger women, older whiskey and more money