This week was hard. It's getting dark.
The weeds are high in my front yard,
but it's Friday night and I don't really care.
The moon is out, the crickets loud.
A train went by, but it's gone now,
So up and down this street I sit and stare.
You could say there's not much here for us -
Nothing but a pile of dirt and dust,
But, baby, we could string the stars over these cornstalks.
We could turn your truck into an old jukebox.
Just take my hand and, baby, we could fall;
Let's turn this open field into an old dance hall.
No neon signs, no bar room fights;
Just you and me in these headlights
Two stepping in our rolled up Levi jeans.
And there ain't no band playing Ramblin' Man,
No cowboys kicking old beer cans;
Just a couple Cherry Cokes and a mix CD.
Come on, baby, just spin me around.
When the sun comes up, we'll head back into town, But for now, we could string the stars over these cornstalks.
We could turn your truck into an old jukebox.
Just take my hand and, baby, we could fall;
Let's turn this open field into an old dance hall.
And we'll turn this open field into an old dance hall, yeah.
Hey baby, what do you say?
They're playing our song anyway.
We could string the stars over these cornstalks.
We could turn your truck into an old jukebox.
Just take my hand and, baby, we could fall;
Let's turn this open field into an old dance hall.
And we'll turn this open field into our own dance hall.

INVIA LE CORREZIONI