Little Songs

There's an old man in the foothills
And if he ain't dead, he's living there still
Loved them little cuttin' horses
All his life

That's a high-dollar habit
He don't mind, he's financed it
Building songs
And losing wives

You won't get much on mountain time
Except older and a thicker hide
You got to fill the big empty
With little songs

There's a lady on the highline
She's fighting drought and her own mind
Day by day, she's been losing
To the wind

'Cause between the price of feed
And the moisture she don't see
A gal considers sеlling out
Or pitting in

You might not see a soul for days
On them high and lonesome plains
You got to fill thе big empty
With little songs

You got to fill the big empty
With little songs

You got to fill the big empty
With little songs