They Don't Ride Their Horses

They don't ride their horses to the store,

No dusty streets, no whiskey stained swinging saloon doors.

And I ain't seen no gun fights between cowboys and outlaws,

No, they don't ride their horses to the store.

I've been waiting for that shining light above,

To abduct and probe internally with experimental love.

Now I believe in Area 51,

But little green men in flying saucers, I'll believe in aliens when they come.

No, we don't ride our horses to the store,

No men adorned in overalls and hats they've made of straw.

But Southern hospitality, they couldn't do no more,

But we don't ride our horses to the store.