Look off down the highway   at the glittering lights   Like windshield glass   on the shoulder tonight   As the diesels come    grinding on up from the plains   All bunched up like pearls on a string    And I guess time don't mean nothin'   Not nothin' at all   And out on the horizon   the broken stars fall   Old broken stars they   fall down on the land   And get mixed together   with the lights of Cheyenne      Well I've been up all night   and I'm down on my back   Workin' the counter   to take up the slack   `Cause the money tree's light   and the whiskey stream's low   You ain't worked a week    since July      You say the gravel pit's hiring   After the first   But you don't have the   nature for that kind of work   You might get hired on   But you won't make a hand   And I'll still be here lookin'    at the lights of Cheyenne      You stand in the sky    with your feet on the ground   Never suspectin' a thing   But if the sky were to   move you might never be found   Never be heard from again      We go on good behavior when    our youngest comes home   She comes up from Boulder    but she never stays long   And that oldest still fights    me like she was 18   Stopped in for a 6-pack awhile ago      And she's got a cowboy problem    And this last one's a sight   All dressed up like Gunsmoke   for Saturday night   And they were off to the bars   for lack of a plan   Racing the stars to the lights of Cheyenne      And you've kept all that   meanness inside you so long   You'd fight with a fence post   if it looked at your wrong   Well the post won't hit back,    and it won't call the law   I look at your right,    or I don't look at all      Now take a crumpled up    soft pack and give it a shake   Out by the dumpster on a cigarette break   With one eye swelled up from   the back of your hand   And the other eye fixed    on the lights of Cheyenne      You stand in the sky with    your feet on the ground   Never suspectin' a thing   But if the sky were to    move you might never be found   Never be heard from again      Now there's antelope grazing   in range of my gun   Come opening weekend    you won't see a one   They'll vanish like ghosts    `cause somehow they know   But now they're up to the   fence in the early dawn      And it's warming up nicely    for this time of year   The creeks are still frozen but   the roads are all clear   And I don't have it in me   to make one more stand   Though I never much cared f   or the lights of Cheyenne