Boots made of starlight, hats woven from dust, They ride through the nebula plains they trust. Photon lassos hum in the midnight blue, Roundin’ up comets where the stardust grew. They’re the intergalactic cowboys, Driftin’ wide and free, Wranglin’ herds of plasma beasts ‘Cross the cosmic sea. From Vega to Orion, They ride without a sound, Rustlin’ light in the vacuum, Where no lawmen are found. Their herd don’t moo, they shimmer and hum, Glowin’ like dawn on a red dwarf sun. They sleep in the craters of alien moons, Dreamin’ of home where no air ballooon. They’re the intergalactic cowboys, Ghosts of a silver age, Playin’ space guitar and ridin’ Past the asteroid stage. They brand their mark in nebulae, Burnin’ trails unseen, With whiskey made of moonlight And hearts painted green. When the void winds blow and the dark gets cold, They hum a tune the galaxies told. A song of dust, and orbit, and flame, No two stars remember it the same. They’re the intergalactic cowboys, Chasin’ solar herds, Talkin’ to the quasars In a language without words. Through wormholes and wonders, They’ll never settle down, Just alien cowboys ridin’ From world to world around. So if you see a streak of light, Hear a hum in the cosmic night, Tip your hat and whisper low, “There go the cowboys, ridin’ slow.”
