Testi:
Garth Brooks Fresh Horses

t you take my hand I'm coming home Ireland Now the fog is deep and heavy As we forge the dark and fear We can hear their horses breathing As in silence

She was born to a mother trucker Raised behind the wheel So you can blame it on the highway For the way she can't sit still She says life is like a windshield

They packed up all his buckles And shipped his saddle to his dad And by the way the house looked She must have took it bad The workers come on Monday

One hand Reaches out And pulls a lost soul from harm While a thousand more go unspoken for They say what good have you done By saving just this

Or the night they broke behind us And then took us by surprise I whistled out to Bonner, I seen the terror in his eyes And he rode for all his horse

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One hand reaches out and pulls a lost soul from harm While a thousand more go unspoken for And they say you, what good have you done by saving just this

On the eighth day God noticed a problem For there below Him stood a cowboy alone Stubborn and proud, reckless and loud God knew he'd never make it on

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