Letras
A couple guys in first class on a flight
From New York to Los Angeles
Kinda makin' small talk, killin' time
Flirtin' with the flight attendants
Thirty thousand feet above
Could be Oklahoma
Just a bunch of square cornfields and wheat farms
Man, it all looks the same
Miles and miles of back roads and highways
Connectin' little towns with funny names
Who'd wanna live down there
In the middle of nowhere?
They've never drove through Indiana
Met the man who plowed that earth
Planted that seed
Busted his ass for you and me
Or caught a harvest moon in Kansas
They'd understand why God made
Those flyover states
I bet that mile-long Santa Fe freight train engineer's seen it all
Just like that flatbed cowboy stackin' U.S. Steel on a three-day haul
Roads and rails under their feet
Yeah, that sounds like a first-class seat
On the plains of Oklahoma
With a windshield sunset in your eyes
Like a watercolor-painted sky
You think the heaven's doors have opened
You'll understand why God made
Those flyover states
Take a ride across the badlands
Feel that freedom on your face
Breathe in all that open space
Meet a girl from Amarillo
You'll understand why God made
You might even wanna plant your stakes
In those flyover states
Yeah
Have you ever been through Indiana?
On the plains of Oklahoma
Take a ride