| This week was hard, it’s getting dark
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| The weeds are high in my front yard
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| But it’s Friday night and I don’t really care
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| The moon is out, the crickets loud
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| A train went by, but it’s gone now
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| So up and down the street, I sit and stare
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| You could say there’s not much here for us
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| Nothing but a pile of dirt and dust
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| But, baby
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| We could string the stars over these corn stalks
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| We could turn your truck into an old jukebox
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| Just take my hand and baby, we could fall
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| Let’s turn this open field into an old dance hall
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| (Do do do, do do do
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| Do do do, do do
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| Do do do, do do do
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| Do do do)
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| No neon signs, no barroom fights
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| Just you and me in these headlights
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| Two-stepping in rolled-up Levi jeans
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| There ain’t no band playing «Ramblin' Man»
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| No cowboys kicking old beer cans
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| Just a couple of cherry Cokes and a mix CD
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| Come on baby, just spin me around
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| When the sun comes out, we’ll head back into town
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| But for now
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| We could string the stars over these corn stalks
|
| We could turn your truck into an old jukebox
|
| Just take my hand and baby, we could fall
|
| Let’s turn this open field into an old dance hall
|
| We’ll turn this open field into an old dance hall
|
| Hey, baby, what do you say?
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| They’re playing our song anyway
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| We could string the stars over these corn stalks
|
| We could turn your truck into an old jukebox
|
| Just take my hand and baby, we could fall
|
| Let’s turn this open field into an old dance hall
|
| We’ll turn this open field into our own dance hall
|
| (Do do do, do do do
|
| Do do do, do do
|
| Do do do, do do do
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| Do do do
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| Do do do, do do do
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| Do do do, do do
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| Do do do, do do do
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| Do do do) |