| «Quick step to Texas in the driving wind
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| And it seems the man in the moon was crying too
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| As he left the Kansas wheat fields and made for Dallas
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| All in a dream
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| He’d been born twenty-odd years ago today
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| But he didn’t believe he’d yet been alive
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| So he kept the night in Dallas and when he woke
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| He made a push for Santa Fe hey hey hey
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| And he might explain that
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| I … I’m biding my time
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| I’ll hitch my wagon up to another star
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| I’m taking my own sweet time
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| Who knows where I’ll be a day from now
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| Texas one time had been a young man’s dream
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| Rich oil ran in endless streams
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| But the dreams cashed in and made men go
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| And the rivers had done run dry
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| West of Amarillo, he had a vision
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| Of an Indian girl and a cabin in the snow
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| Perhaps Santa Fe will be kinder
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| Than Kansas ever was
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| But your dreams come clean over miles of road
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| And come to think of it
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| Tucson don’t seem too much further to go
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| Cause I … I’m biding my time
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| I’ll hitch my wagon up to another star
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| I. . |
| .I'm, I’m taking my own sweet time
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| Who knows where I’ll be a day from now |
| I. . |
| .I'm" |