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
connecting little towns with funny names.
Who’d want to 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 fly over states.