Olivia Wolf - Lucky One

A young cowboy went riding to find a place you never grow old
Ran into the horizon, thinks he found that pot of gold
I rang that dinner bell, threw out a long lasso
I begged and pleaded for a couple years he never came home

You’re flying high, I’m crying blind
You’re laughing seven inches from the sun
I’m here picking up the pieces
Maybe you’re the lucky one

Come back as a hummingbird
Whip-poor-will in a holler down low
The wind through a willow tree, a little voice in my soul

You’re flying high I’m crying blind
You’re laughing sеven inches from the sun
I’m hеre picking up the pieces
Maybe you’re the lucky one
Maybe you’re the lucky one

A young cowboy went riding to find a place you never grow old