[Intro] C  F  C

[Primera Parte]

C                   F      C
I've got plates for purple gas
               F       C
'Bout the only break I catch
                 F       C
But I am not the kind of man
                         F      C
To blame the dealer on a losin' hand
                 F     C
Have a lone star in my eye
                        F           C
The darker the sky, the brighter it shines
                    F      C
Pumpjack checks and bailer twine
                      F       C
A ton of a grit or maybe it's spite

[Estribillo]

    Dm                               F
And if I weren't a flatland boy, I'd say I'd have a hill
  Dm                               F
A hill that I will die upon if the climb don't get me killed
   Dm                             F
If there were such heights around here for a guy to lay his pride
   Dm                   C         F             C
Maybe I'd rest before I died if I weren't a flatland boy
     F                  C
If I weren't a flatland boy

[Segunda Parte]

               F             C
I hammer down, hair straight back
                               F        C
The world blurs past, tell me, how's it that
           F         C
My horizon line's static?
                      F      C
I guess at least it's a sure bet
                        F         C
Was taught not to throw the first fist
                              F             C
But if you take a hit, finish that son of a bitch
                     F              C
In a life havin' the upper hand's a myth
                                 F           C
Your only fightin' chance is too stubborn to quit

[Estribillo]

    Dm                               F
And if I weren't a flatland boy, I'd say I'd have a hill
  Dm                               F
A hill that I will die upon if the climb don't get me killed
   Dm                             F
If there were such heights around here for a guy to lay his pride
   Dm                   C         F             C
Maybe I'd rest before I died if I weren't a flatland boy
     F                  C
If I weren't a flatland boy

[Tercera Parte]

                   F          C
Retired rail ties, point nine wire
                    F       C
Neighbor kid on the fencing pliers
                 F    C
Fargo that turns over fine
                      F       C
At forty below if you cuss it right
               F       C
A sly thumb of Rye sometimes
                           F     C
Keep a bottle hid with the Bio-Mycin
                               F     C
You can dull the edge, you can look ahead
          Dm                       C
But can't get there, it goes on forever
       Dm              C
Oh, it just goes on forever
              Dm                       C    F  C
You keep your head down, it goes on forever

[Final]

                        F      C
But I've got plates for purple gas
                    F      C
I've got plates for purple gas