| I met a dark-haired girl
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| In a blue cotton dress
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| She had a pair of old work boots on
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| And I asked her her name
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| And she told me and laughed
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| But my friends call me Cimarron
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| For it means that I live in the mountains
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| And I’m gonna go back there soon
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| For I need to be high and out of the city
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| To be closer to the moon
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| Cimarron, Cimarron, Cimarron
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| I hope you find your way home
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| She finished at ten but we sat at the bar
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| Drinking cola and long-necked beers
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| Two lost souls in harmony
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| Everything was clear
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| We walked in silence to my old red Ford
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| And we ran deep into the hills
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| Looked out over the lights of the city
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| At the night so clear and still
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| Cimarron, Cimarron, Cimarron
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| I hope you find your way home
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| Cimarron, Cimarron, Cimarron
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| I know where you belong
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| That was where I woke alone
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| With the birds of the first light
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| Sometimes I still drive up there
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| In the lonely time of night
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| Cimarron, Cimarron, Cimarron
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| I hope you find your way home
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| Cimarron, Cimarron, Cimarron
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| I know where you belong
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| Cimarron, Cimarron, Cimarron
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| I hope you find your way home
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| Cimarron, Cimarron, Cimarron
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| I know where you belong |