More songs by Lanie Gardner
Description
A black Mustang, a cloud of smoke, and boots that are too clean - it's immediately clear that he didn't come here to put down roots. This kind of “cowboy” takes tenderness with him like a bouquet of wildflowers, leaving only gray asphalt behind. The lights of the city shine in his eyes, but everything alive withers faster next to them. The wild flowers of the south are not meant for concrete, and a concrete heart is not made for love.