Fenceline Highway

The sun’s been beating down on the paddock all day

Fixing broken fences just to keep the wild at bay

My hands are calloused,

stained with diesel and grease

I’m looking for a way to find a little bit of peace

I unclip the pliers,

toss them on the seat of the Ford

Then I grab my helmet—the only thing I can afford

It’s the fence line highway,

where the dirt turns to gold Trading the weight of the work

for the stories I’ve told When the throttle opens wide and the

piston starts to scream

I’m shaking off the dust of this working-man’s dream Yeah,

from the pliers in my pocket to the engine in my hands

I’m riding the edge of these broken-down lands (yeah!)

The sky is turning purple,

the horizon’s catching fire

I’m pushing up the speed,

climbing higher and higher

Passing the cattle guards,

leaning into the bend

Every mile is a brother,

every gravel road’s a friend

No more chasing strays,

no more mending the wire Just me and the sunset,

and a heart full of fire

Some folks want a vacation,

some want a quiet chair I want the wind whipping through

my messy, matted hair I want the smell of the sagebrush,

the vibration in my bones

Building a kingdom on these miles of dirt and stones

(riding the edge...) (oh yeah,

riding the edge...)