| Drivin' down on a dry summer’s day
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| Old Route 66 and I was just a kid
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| Met a pretty little Indian girl
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| Along the way
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| Got her into my car
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| And tried to give her a kiss
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| I’ll give you beads and wampum
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| Whatever it takes girl, to make you trade
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| She jumped into the back seat
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| And she kind of flipped her lid
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| She said you’re tryin' to get something for nothing
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| Like the pilgrims in the olden days
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| We rode for a while till the sun went away
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| And I realized it was sort of an honor
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| Bein' around this girl
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| I felt embarrassed
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| Of what I tried to do earlier that day
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| She was the saddest girl I ever knew
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| She told me stories about the Indian nations
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| And how the white man stole their lives away
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| And although she kinda liked me
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| She could never trust me
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| And when the sun comes up
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| We’d go our different ways
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| Now everybody has got the choice
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| Between hotdogs and hamburgers
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| Every one of us has got to choose
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| Between right and wrong
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| And givin' up or holdin' on
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| So I dropped her off at some railroad crossing in Texas
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| An old Indian man was waiting there
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| He smiled and thanked me
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| But he saw right through me
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| I could tell he didn’t like me
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| For my kind he did not care
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| Because to him I was the white man
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| The one who sold him something that he already owned
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| And it was like he’d been riding in the car right there with us
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| And I felt ashamed of my actions
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| And the way the west was really won
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| So I drove down the highway
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| Till I came to Los Angeles
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| The town of the angels
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| The best this country can do
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| I got down on my knees
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| And I asked for forgiveness
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| I said, Lord, forgive us for we know not what we do
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| Now everybody has got the choice
|
| Between hotdogs and hamburgers
|
| Every one of us has got to choose
|
| Between right and wrong
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| And givin' up or holdin' on |