1
Just when I say
"Boy we can't miss
You are golden"
Then you do this
You say this guy is so cool
Snapping his fingers like a fool
One more expensive kiss-off
Who do you think I am
Lord I know you're a special friend
But you don't seem to understand
We got heavy rollers
I think you should know
Try again tomorrow
Can't you see they're laughing at me
Get rid off him
I don't care what you do at home
Would you care to explain
Who is the gaucho amigo
Why is he standing
In your spangled leather poncho
And your elevator shoes
Bodacious cowboys
Such as your friend
Will never be welcome here
High in the Custerdome
What I tell you
Back down the line
I'll scratch your back
You can scratch mine
No he can't sleep on the floor
What do you think I'm yelling for
I'll drop him near the freeway
Doesn't he have a home
Lord I know you're a special friend
But you refuse to understand
You're a nasty schoolboy
With no place to go
Try again tomorrow
Don't tell me he'll wait in the car
Look at you
Holding hands with the man from Rio
Would you care to explain
Who is the gaucho amigo
Why is he standing
In your spangled leather poncho
With the studs that match your eyes
Bodacious cowboys
Such as your friend
Will never be welcome here
High in the Custerdome
"Boy we can't miss
You are golden"
Then you do this
You say this guy is so cool
Snapping his fingers like a fool
One more expensive kiss-off
Who do you think I am
Lord I know you're a special friend
But you don't seem to understand
We got heavy rollers
I think you should know
Try again tomorrow
Can't you see they're laughing at me
Get rid off him
I don't care what you do at home
Would you care to explain
Who is the gaucho amigo
Why is he standing
In your spangled leather poncho
And your elevator shoes
Bodacious cowboys
Such as your friend
Will never be welcome here
High in the Custerdome
What I tell you
Back down the line
I'll scratch your back
You can scratch mine
No he can't sleep on the floor
What do you think I'm yelling for
I'll drop him near the freeway
Doesn't he have a home
Lord I know you're a special friend
But you refuse to understand
You're a nasty schoolboy
With no place to go
Try again tomorrow
Don't tell me he'll wait in the car
Look at you
Holding hands with the man from Rio
Would you care to explain
Who is the gaucho amigo
Why is he standing
In your spangled leather poncho
With the studs that match your eyes
Bodacious cowboys
Such as your friend
Will never be welcome here
High in the Custerdome
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I have always thought the narrator of the song was a manager talking to his client, an athlete... probably a pro wrestler or rodeo star ( i get this from the spangled leather poncho refernce) ... warning him to keep his homosexuality secret so as not to ruin his budding career (just when I say boy we cant miss, you are golden, now you do this) or offend their sponsors (heavy rollers) I agree, this is a highly underrated album... one of my favorites along with Royal Scam
Cojo - Neat idea, but I have to disagree with you. I think the narrator is in love with the man he's speking to. <br /> For me, the critical line is, "with the studs that match your eyes", sung kind of wistfully. That's always been my favorite line. I love how it's added as an unexpected addendum to the regular line right at the end. <br /> The way I hear this, it's an older male lover who, the entire song, is pretending as though his objections to the gaucho intruder are all essentially unemotional, how the gaucho is ridiculous, embarassing, pathetic, but, at the very end, he reveals his superior, authoritative objections are all a sham, a facade, and really he's jealous, heartbroken, crushed. <br /> Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but that's the way I hear it, and though I'm not gay, read that way it feels to me like terrific writing, creating great complexity of character obliquely. I can hear all the emotions in his voice of wounded pride trying to make a desperate show of pretend strength. Love it.
Cojo - Neat idea, but I have to disagree with you. I think the narrator is in love with the man he's speking to. <br /> For me, the critical line is, "with the studs that match your eyes", sung kind of wistfully. That's always been my favorite line. I love how it's added as an unexpected addendum to the regular line right at the end. <br /> The way I hear this, it's an older male lover who, the entire song, is pretending as though his objections to the gaucho intruder are all essentially unemotional, how the gaucho is ridiculous, embarassing, pathetic, but, at the very end, he reveals his superior, authoritative objections are all a sham, a facade, and really he's jealous, heartbroken, crushed. <br /> Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but that's the way I hear it, and though I'm not gay, read that way it feels to me like terrific writing, creating great complexity of character obliquely. I can hear all the emotions in his voice of wounded pride trying to make a desperate show of pretend strength. Love it.
Cojo - Neat idea, but I have to disagree with you. I think the narrator is in love with the man he's speking to. <br /> For me, the critical line is, "with the studs that match your eyes", sung kind of wistfully. That's always been my favorite line. I love how it's added as an unexpected addendum to the regular line right at the end. <br /> The way I hear this, it's an older male lover who, the entire song, is pretending as though his objections to the gaucho intruder are all essentially unemotional, how the gaucho is ridiculous, embarassing, pathetic, but, at the very end, he reveals his superior, authoritative objections are all a sham, a facade, and really he's jealous, heartbroken, crushed. <br /> Maybe I'm reading waaay too much into it, but that's the way I hear it, and though I'm not gay, read that way it feels to me like terrific writing, creating great complexity of character obliquely. I can hear all the emotions in his voice of wounded pride trying to make a desperate show of pretend strength. Love it.
Hahaha, I'd say it one more time. Sorry, something screwed up with my browser and I can't seem to erase the extra replies.