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
What a tired way to die

All these little cowboys
Making the scene
Screaming 'Bloody Mary'
Into their answering machines
They're all suckers for a heartache
They sleep on sticks-n-stones
All these little cowboys
Can't leave bad enough alone

Now the 8-ball's just a chaser
For the Demerol 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
All these little cowboys
Break like someone's keeping score
All these little cowboys
Making the scene
Screaming 'Bloody Mary'
Into their answering machines
They're all suckers for a heartache
They sleep on sticks-n-stones
All 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

All these little cowboys
Making the scene
Screaming 'Bloody Mary'
Into their answering machines
They're all suckers for a heartache
They sleep on sticks-n-stones
All these little cowboys
Can't leave bad enough alone