He's riding the plains living up to his namenAs the next to the last true romanticnHe knows that his story is tragicnBut he can't restnTil he's next To younnAll the girls know his fame the men curse his namenAnd they talk about him like he's magicnBut he's the next to the last true romanticnAnd he can't restnTil he's next To younnHe's stolen hearts like they're horsesnAnd horses when hearts can't be foundnHe keeps riding from one horse to one horse to one horse towns (It gets him down)nnHe know's he's a fool to get caught up with younBut he's the next to the last true romanticnHe can't let go of love once he's had itnAnd he can't restnTil he's next to younnThere's always whiskey and women and women and whiskey aroundnHe can't tell which is worse to be dying of thirst or to drown (It gets him down)nnSo he smiles through the pain he pinch Estelle he dance with JanenSometimes even he don't know how he stands itnBut he's the next to the last true romanticnAnd he can't restnTil he's nextnTo you