| I tried going west where the sky meets the sun
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| Where the edge of the world’s always been
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| As far from this place as a girl gets to run
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| When her reasons to stay have worn thin
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| Out there the days were so bright and so blue
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| Yet I missed all my thunder and rain
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| The way a storm punctures a hot afternoon
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| Washing away every stain
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| When my maps pointed north they were calling for snow
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| To cover all sound and all sight
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| Tell me where on this earth does all that noise go
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| Underneath all of that white
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| With thaws scarcely mentioned I dug out my truck
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| By the time the storm cleared I was gone
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| Back on the road with the radio up
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| Singing at the top of my lungs
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| Driving and crying and driving some more
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| Oh the south is a good place to hide
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| Hot nights, cold beer and creaky screen doors
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| And a motel’s vacancy sign
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| A letter a day I wrote back home to you
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| But not one you ever received
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| Because I can’t stand a man who lies like you do
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| And I can’t bear a woman who pleads
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| One day it dawned I had run out of road
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| And out of reasons to run
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| Like a horse to the barn I was hell bent to go
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| As fast going back as I’d come
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| Home, home was the song that I sang
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| As I pulled in just before dark
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| There was only a hook where your coat used to hang
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| That’s where I hung up my heart
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| I tried going west, where the sky meets the sun |