Copyright © 2006 | Aaron Traffas (BMI) and Chris Goering 

G		      Am
Beneath sunrise and a little bit left
	   	Em		C
	there's not too much to tell about
	except for lawmakers and bankers
	like a street gang trying to push us out.
The auctioneer keeps driving by;
	daddy said it would get this way.
G			     Am
But I'm just as proud of my Kansas farm
	     Em		   D
	as I am of my last name. 

G		D
I spend my days fixing fence;
	     Em		   C
	they question my significance.
I work the land where I was born
	growing milo, wheat, and corn.
G	           D
Plow and plant and fertilize,
	  	      Em	   D   C
	cursed by the women, weeds and rye
     G			D
The only time I see the lights of town
	     Em			     C   Em   D
	is on Friday nights when the sun goes down
I'll work these fields until I'm dead,
	round and round the old homestead
	     G		        D
	with callused hands and these two arms,
	C		        D      G
	I'll never leave this red dirt farm. 

There's a long stretch of blacktop
	near the hollow I call home.
There's eighty acres and a corner post
     my grandfather set long ago.
The weak and rusty wires on the fence fall down
     while that post still stands.
The cattle and the ground mean the world to me –
     as much as the family brand. 

G	            D
Elevator girls make harvest worthwhile.
  Em		      		 C
I pull across the scales and she gives me a smile.
	       G	       D
I watch her skinny legs in the mirror
	Em   	      D  C
	as she probes my load.
G	        	  D
She writes her age on the ticket.
C		D
I'm back on the road.