I’ve got plates for Purple Gas Bout the only break I catch But I am not the kind of man To blame the dealer on a losing hand
Have a lone star in my eye The darker the sky The brighter it shines Pumpjack cheques and baler twine A ton of grit or maybe it’s spite
And if I weren’t a flatland boy I’d say I have a hill A hill that I will die upon if the climb don’t get me killed If there were such heights around here for a guy to lay his pride Maybe I’d rest before I died if I weren’t a flatland boy If I weren’t a flatland boy
I hammer down, hair straight back The World blurs past, tell me hows it that My horizon line’s static I guess at least it’s a sure bet
Was taught to not throw the first fist But if you take a hit-Finish that son-of-a-bitch In a life having the upper hand’s a myth Your only fighting chance is too stubborn to quit
And if I weren’t a flatland boy I’d say I have a hill A hill that I will die upon if the climb don’t get me killed If there were such heights around here for a guy to lay his pride Maybe I’d rest before I died if I weren’t a flatland boy If I weren’t a flatland boy
Retired rail ties, point-nine wire, Neighbor kid on the fencin’ pliers Fargo that turns over fine At forty-below if you cuss it right
A sly thumb of Rye sometimes Keep a bottle hid with the Bio-Mycin You can dull the edge, you can look ahead But you can’t get there, It goes on forever Oh it just goes on forever You keep your head down, it goes on forever
But I’ve got plates for Purple Gas
I’ve got plates for Purple Gas
