| A couple of guys in first class on a flight
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| From New York to Los Angeles
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| Kinda making small talk killin' time
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| Flirting with the flight attendants
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| Thirty thousand feet above, could be Oklahoma
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| Just a bunch of square cornfields and wheat farms
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| Man, it all looks the same
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| Miles and miles of back roads and highways
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| Connecting little towns with funny names
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| Who’d want to live down there in the middle of nowhere?
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| They’ve never drove through Indiana
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| Met the man who plowed that earth
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| Planted that seed, busted his ass for you and me
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| Or caught a harvest moon in Kansas
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| They’d understand why God made
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| Those fly over states
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| I bet that mile long Santa Fe
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| Freight train engineer’s seen it all
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| Just like that flatbed cowboy
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| Stacking US Steel on a three day haul
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| Roads and rails under their feet
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| Yeah, that sounds like a first class seat
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| On the plains of Oklahoma
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| With a windshield sunset in your eyes
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| Like a water colored painted sky
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| You’ll think heaven’s doors have opened
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| You’ll understand why God made
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| Those fly over states
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| Take a ride across the badlands
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| Feel that freedom on your face
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| Breathe in all that open space
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| Meet a girl from Amarillo
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| You’ll understand why God made
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| You might even wanna plant your stakes
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| In those fly over states
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| Have you ever been through Indiana
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| On the plains of Oklahoma
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| Take a ride |