From five hundred feet above, in a fire, was a morning dove
Searching for a place to land
I’d perch up on the turnpike
Watch old sedans and semis
Wonder where they’re going and where they’ve been
And looking back now, through the years
Before the hands of man were here
Rusty shovels found black gold
And tumbleweeds were free like the Choctaw and Cherokee
Before they had to call this land their home
If only they could see how it’s gone
Now it’s red dirt tears and broken mirrors
And a little trailer park, just south of here
End of the world is gettin’ near, but I still feel the same
And it’s red dirt poor and wanting more
Mr. Weatherman knocking at my door
Where dreams go drying up like rain
Welcome to the plains
And if I was a coyote runnin’
Stealing on the Cimarron
Looking for a place to cool my head
Find shelter from the voices
Telling me my only choices
Get up, get gone, keep moving west
If I ever left, those eyes would fill up fast with
Red dirt tears and broken mirrors
And a little trailer park just south of here
End of the world is getting near, but I still feel the same
And it’s red dirt poor and wanting more
Mr. Weatherman knocking at my door
Where dreams go drying up like rain
Where dreams go drying up like rain
Welcome to the plains
Now it’s red dirt tears and broken mirrors
And a little trailer park just south of here
End of the world is getting near, but I still feel the same
And it’s red dirt poor and wanting more
Mr. Weatherman knocking at my door
Where dreams go drying up like rain
Where dreams go drying up like rain
Where dreams go drying up like rain
Welcome to the plains
Welcome to the plains
Welcome to the plains
One, two, three, four
One, two