| There’s fire in the canyon
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| Rain on the plain
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| And an eerie kind of sadness
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| On the highway today
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| Was it driving together
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| That drove us apart
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| Or did we change direction
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| Chasing arrows and hearts
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| We’ve been wandering alone such a long time
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| Lose our way as we go town to town
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| Believe us to be born into a path straight and narrow
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| On every crooked road we travel down
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| And I’m checking out the road signs
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| Highway hotels
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| And their air-conditioned cable-ready cold padded cells
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| And we read them like stories
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| In trash magazines
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| We ain’t really sure what it means
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| Well I’ll ride this motorway
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| For a thousand miles a day
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| Till the road runs out of blacktop
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| Or I will this world away
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| And each town is steeped in rain
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| And I know each one by name
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| Cause this road is wrapped around me
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| And I wear it like a chain |