| It was one lane in and one lane out
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| A country road they built around
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| A general store and last stop for gasoline
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| A paved carpet where we rode our bikes
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| How the mail came in and how our town survived
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| A hundred miles from the city’s cold concrete
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| Yeah round here old rural route number three
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| Is more than just a crossing for tumbleweeds
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| She’s taken sons to foreign shores
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| Brought some back home to their front porch
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| She' how we come together when the church bell rings
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| A quarter inch on a fold out map
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| Where we live, love, cry and laugh
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| I hope my kids can grow up just like me
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| On a country road like rural route number three
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| My first memory is wrapped around
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| Momma walkin' me to my first bus route
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| She thought I didn’t notice but saw her cry
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| A place we parked and fogged windows
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| A way to college and Christmas back home
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| The shoulder I broke down on when a good friend died
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| She’s taken sons to foreign shores
|
| Brought some back home to their front porch
|
| She' how we come together when the church bell rings
|
| A quarter inch on a fold out map
|
| Where we live, love, cry and laugh
|
| I hope my kids can grow up just like me
|
| On a country road like rural route number three
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| (Bridge:)
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| The sun is hot, our flag it waves
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| We’ve dreamed for years about this day
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| When we’d take those five yellow ribbons down
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| Riding the blacktops hot heatwaves
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| Black boots marchin' through ticker tape
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| A boy from overseas came back to town
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| Today old highway three is hallowed ground
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| (Instrumental fade out) |