| We wiped out all the Buffalo
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| Around the turn of the last century
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| And so it’s factories and sawgrass
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| And wheat fields and asphalt laid in front of me
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| The Midwest is a hollow place
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| That we filled with love and industry
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| We stared at the frozen ground in Goodwill suits
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| Silent as the pastor reads the eulogy
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| I wanted to see just a little bit of everything
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| Let me be two blackbirds on a highway sign
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| Are laughing at me at four in the morning
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| They played the war drum out of time
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| So I’m not sure where I’ve been marching
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| I wanna be strong, but it’s not easy anymore
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| I’m hoping I’m wrong
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| It’s just five hours straight to home
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| From the town west of Sioux city
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| And so I searched through my great-grandpa's memoirs
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| For the devil in my bloodstream
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| Depression grabbed his throat
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| And choked the life out of him slowly
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| I’ve got the same blood coursing through my veins
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| It’ll come for me eventually
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| I bet I’d be a fucking coward
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| I bet I’d never have the guts for war
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| Cause I can’t spend another month away from here
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| These frantic rest stop phone calls don’t get answered anymore
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| But I, I wanted to know if I could please come home
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| Just let me know
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| Two blackbirds on a highway sign
 | 
| Are laughing at me at four in the morning
 | 
| They played the war drum out of time
 | 
| So I’m not sure where I’ve been marching
 | 
| I wanna be strong, but it’s not easy anymore
 | 
| I’m hoping I’m wrong
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| I’m hoping I’m wrong |