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Slow Moving Outlsaw Waylon Jennings
[D]All the old stations, are being torn down.
And the [A]high flyin' trains no longer [D]roll.
The floors are all sagging,
With boards that are suffering,
from not being used any[A]more.
[G]Things are all changing, the world's rearranging,
A [D]time that will soon be no more...
[A]Where has a slow moving, o[G]nce quick draw outlaw, got
to g[D]o?
The whiskey that once settled the dust,
and tasted so [A]fine,
Now tastes of p[D]ain.
And the memories it once blotted out,
come back stronger, more clearly with each drink you
ta[A]ke.
[G]The women that warmed you, you once thought so pretty,
[D]NOw look haggard and old.
[A]Where has a slow moving, [G]once quick draw outlaw, got
to [D]go?
The land where I traveled, once fashioned with beauty,
now stands with scars on her f[A]ace.
The w[D]ide open spaces, are closing in swiftly,
from the weight of the whole human r[A]ace.
And its [G]not that I blame them, for claiming her
bounty,
I just w[D]ish they'd taken it slow,
[A]Where has a slow moving, [G]once quick draw outlaw, got
to g[D]o?
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