A tall black cowboy hat pulled down low to hide his eyes 

While lines of weekend window shoppers just kept rollin' by 

I spotted him from my old truck as he stood out in the crowd 

He was a little more than twice my age, but he still looked strong and proud 

Hadn't seen my uncle now since I was seventeen 

And the stories of the wild, wild west kept comin' back to me 

He didn't say too much, just tipped his has as he closed the old truck door 

And I knew that this trip down Highway 10 would bring me so much more 



Where the old man and the little boy could see things eye to eye 

He took me back to a place in time where legends never die... 



His hands and face were lined and weathered, they told stories of their own 

His skin as red as desert clay, his eyes as black as coal 

He was a cowboy and an Indian, just a little bit of both 

For years of working the ranches and rodeos he didn't have much to show 

Then he closed his eyes and spoke to me, his voice was like the wind 

And that truck turned into a raging steed so he could ride again 

He grabbed the colors from the sky, put them in his hands, 

Sprinkled them across the road like grains of colored sand.