The skies are dark and gray
For a week now it's been raining every day
And the Kansas City Kid
Is on the couch still trying to rope a stray
Well he's Crockett and he's Custer
And he's Hickok's right hand man
He's trying to tame the West
But Mom don't seem to understand
And she's told him to get ready
Cause it's the time for bed
And how he wishes he were free
Cause he was simply born to be
A cowboy

Asleep he rides the range
On a saddle that has seen its better days
And hear the coyotes call
They sing the sun to rest as evening falls
Well, make a pot of coffee, boys
So strong you taste the grain
Stretch out on your blanket
As he clears his throat to sing
Keep you eyes upon him
With his Gary Cooper grin
It doesn't take much sense to see
That he was simply born to be
A cowboy

This concrete city's fenced him in
Can't win 'em all
But he'll be on his feet again
He'll ride his fantasies till then
Don't he take after me, he was simply born to be
A cowboy

The skies are dark and gray
For a week now it's been raining every day
But the Kansas City Kid
Is all tucked in and dreaming of the range
A cowboy, a cowboy