LIVE TO RIDE
K. Karloff © 2006

I wasn’t born in California
but I’ve come to call her home.
And when I’m dustin’ down her byways
that sweet old sun sure warms these Eastern bones.

Ride to live.
Live to ride.
Giddy-up my iron hossie -
it’s time to fly.
Something ‘bout ridin’
that makes you feel alive.
Gonna keep on ridin’ baby,
long into the night.

Don’t be concerned if I’m long gone.
It’s hard to stop once I get goin’.
And if I ever lose my luck, dear,
don’t forget to tuck me in with my boots on.

Ride to live.
Live to ride.
Giddy-up my iron hossie -
let’s light the sky.
Something ‘bout ridin’
that makes this world seem right.
Gonna keep on ridin’ baby,
straight down the line.

Come dark the road can turn kinda spooky,
‘specially when there’s miles ‘tween you and your home.
But that’s the time a man can hear himself thinking.
Fact is, in the end, we all ride alone.

Ride to live.
Live to ride.
Giddy-up my iron hossie -
it’s time to fly.
Something ‘bout ridin’
that makes you feel alive.
Gonna keep on ridin’ baby,
long into the night.