On stage the lights blind me. Sometimes, well most of the time, my arms feel like a ton of lead, but i can't stop playing. She won't let me. She's my mistress and my master. She tells me that I can't quit. It's something too hard to explain...
I can't see your faces, but i know your there. You sit and wait for us... then when it's all set up we try to give you what you came for...music. It comes with a price. A price you don't know about. It's paid for in pain, sweat and sometimes blood. Yes i said blood. When the sticks and strings burn and cut through our hands and fingers, but we can't stop, she won't let us. So we play on...
Somtimes we're tired, brusied and battered, but we play on. We play on because we don't have a choice. You come to see us because you've made it your choice, and we thank you, note for note we thank you. You all sit and cheer for the three cowboys with a dream... and if you don't mind we'd like to share that dream with you.
