| I was born with the Chinook wind howlin in my ears
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| That Rocky Mountain gusty shit, it dried me out for years
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| Way back I think my grandpa had a rope horse by that name
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| All I know is, God, here comes that old west wind again
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| There’s lotsa kinds of problems and there’s lotsa kinds of pain
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| Some will sweat the blazing sun and some rot in the rain
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| Here we got the Chinook wind a blowin' every day
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| It’s gonna send the good dirt east and leave a terrible migraine
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| Let her blow, let her blow
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| Whisper me things that I don’t know
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| Let her blow, let her blow
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| Let her blow away illusions like she melts the driftin' snow
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| There comes a time I stood my ground and said I’ve had my fill
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| Of that moisture sucking west wind roarin' in off them hills
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| Before it flew me crazy I let it carry me away
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| They told me, «Son you ain’t the first, that breeze will
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| Drive a man insane»
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| Let her blow, let her blow
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| Whisper me things that I don’t know
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| Let her blow, let her blow
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| Let her blow away illusions like she melts the winter snow
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| If you need me you can find me here waitin' on a change
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| Staring at the distance and askin' what it takes
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| To make that old Chinook turn back and blow the other way
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| And maybe if I’m lucky have it blow me home again |