| Streets of this town ain’t paved in gold but there’s a Texaco star
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| Lights up the start of a gravel road that heads into the dark
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| It’ll take the wheels of your truck and your girl up above the clouds
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| Cut the engine off, turn the radio on, drop the tailgate down
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| Then its moonlight halo, angel eyes
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| High on a hill that kisses the sky
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| Leaning on in to tell her
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| Midnight heart confessions
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| Feet hanging off over holy ground
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| Praying those stars don’t ever burn out
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| On the small-town kids with a sixer from the 7−11
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| Sitting on the tailgate to heaven
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| When you’re way up there with her it’s pretty close to paradise
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| And when her song comes on those wings start to come untied
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| And you thank God for that half-ton 4×4
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| 'Cause it got you up here with a girl and some beer
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| Now you’re knocking on heaven’s door
|
| Then its moonlight halo, angel eyes
|
| High on a hill that kisses the sky
|
| Leaning on in to tell her
|
| Midnight heart confessions
|
| Feet hanging off over holy ground
|
| Praying those stars don’t ever burn out
|
| On the small-town kids with a sixer from the 7−11
|
| Sitting on the tailgate to heaven
|
| Then its moonlight halo, angel eyes
|
| High on a hill that kisses the sky
|
| Leaning on in to tell her
|
| Midnight heart confessions
|
| Feet hanging off over holy ground
|
| Praying those stars don’t ever burn out
|
| On the small-town kids with a sixer from the 7−11
|
| Sitting on the tailgate to heaven |