From a famous tattered sleeve He pulls the ace of innocence Kills another fifth of Whiskey Swears it's self defense He stares down the big bar mirror Almost a tear in his eye One last quick-draw with the bottle Whats a tired way to die Making the scene Screaming 'Bloody Mary' Into their answering machines They're all suckers for a heartache They sleep on sticks-n-stones Alll these little cowboys Can't leave bad enough alone Now the 8-ball's justa chaser For the Dimerol and speed All you could ever ask for Is never all they need So they settle for the bottom And they make for the door Break like someone's keeping score Making the scene Screaming 'Bloody Mary' Into their answering machines They're all suckers for a heartache They sleep on sticks-n-stones Alll these little cowboys Can't leave bad enough alone Now his boots are caked with stardust And she's soaked his shirt in tears All his shit's out on the front lawn It's the best time he's felt in years Cause now its home no the range And it's home on the dash Nowhere's where the heart is He just needs a place to crash Making the scene Screaming 'Bloody Mary' Into their answering machines They're all suckers for a heartache They sleep on sticks-n-stones Alll these little cowboys Can't leave bad enough alone