| Way before the sun comes up
|
| Already on his second cup
|
| He’s looking out across the open sky
|
| As streaks of orange, pink, and gray
|
| Wash over rows of new mown hay
|
| The range land fills a cowboys heart with pride
|
| He rises slowly from his chair
|
| His back is stiff, greys in his hair
|
| He’s spent a lot of lone days in the sun
|
| He ain’t one much to complain
|
| He saddles up and takes the reins
|
| And rides hard til his working day is done
|
| You can see it in the eyes of every woman and man
|
| In Americas heartland living close to the land
|
| There’s a love for the country and a pride in the brand
|
| In Americas heartland living close to the land
|
| Close to the land
|
| When the sun is high overhead
|
| Shes been eight hours out of bed
|
| Shes still got a lot of work to do
|
| Pulling weeds an patchin' jeans
|
| And keepin' faith when times are lean
|
| She does a mans work and a womans too
|
| She’ll run a tractor, water stock
|
| Fix the truck, then feed her flock
|
| But somehow she gets roses from the ground
|
| She ain’t got a thing to prove
|
| She simply does what she must do
|
| From early morning til the sun goes down
|
| You can see it in the eyes of every woman and man
|
| In Americas heartland living close to the land
|
| There’s a love for the country and a pride in the brand
|
| In Americas heartland living close to the land
|
| In Americas heartland close to the land
|
| There’s something that the people know
|
| Who make things live and make things grow
|
| Deeper than the words of any sage
|
| That unless you’ve touched this earth
|
| Planted seeds, or given birth
|
| The human heart can never come of age
|
| You can see it in the eyes of every woman and man
|
| In Americas heartland living close to the land
|
| There’s a love for the country and a pride in the brand
|
| In Americas heartland living close to the land
|
| In Americas heartland close to the land
|
| In Americas heartland close to the land |