| She was a hard, hard woman with a pilgrim soul
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| Had a face all lined from I don’t know
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| Where she has been
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| But now she’s here with me
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| We headed North on 29 through Kansas City
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| 4th of July
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| In the late night fog
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| There were fireworks to see
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| And when I’m lost, you are my True North
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| Carry the weight of my Southern Cross
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| And though it burns, you don’t fear the hurt
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| You were born from the dust, you were raised in the dirt
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| We were all hopped up on kerosene
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| Or something else that burns, it seemed
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| That we would never
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| Put the fire out
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| I got down on my knees to pray
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| Forgot the words I used to say
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| When I was young
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| Each night ‘fore I laid down
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| And when I’m lost, you are my True North
|
| Carry the weight of my Southern Cross
|
| And though it burns, you don’t fear the hurt
|
| You were born from the dust, you were raised in the dirt
|
| You were born from the dust, you were raised in the dirt
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| I’ve been counting stars above the water
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| Evenin’s winding down
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| Just thinking bout the things I’ve seen and where I’m runnin now
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| And when the sun comes up tomorrow I’ll be headed out
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| Yeah that’s the part I know could tear me down
|
| And when I’m lost, you are my True North
|
| Carry the weight of my Southern Cross
|
| And though it burns, you don’t fear the hurt
|
| You were born from the dust, you were raised in the dirt
|
| And when I’m lost, you are my True North
|
| Carry the weight of my Southern Cross
|
| And though it burns, you don’t fear the hurt
|
| You were born from the dust, you were raised in the dirt
|
| You were born from the dust, you were raised in the dirt
|
| You were born from the dust, you were raised in the dirt |