Carrie Underwood - I Ain't In Checotah Anymore
Where 69 meets 40,
There's a single stop light town,
And back when I was really young,
A part of that burned down,
On any given Friday night,
We'd drive a hundred miles,
Between the Sonic and the Grocery Store,
Laughing all the while,
With as many friends as I could pack,
In my daddy's Ford,
But I ain't in Checotah anymore.
My hotel in Manhattan,
Holds more people than our town,
And what I just paid for dinner,
Would be a down payment on a house,
I'd rather be tipping cows in Tulsa,
Then hailing cabs here in New York,
But I ain't in Checotah anymore.
I'm in a world so wide,
It makes me feel small sometimes,
I miss the big blue skys,
The Oklahoma kind.
In a world of long red carpets,
The bright lights of Hollywood,
All the paparazzi flashing,
Could make a girl feel pretty good,
You can get anything you want here,
Except a Wal-Mart store,
But I ain't in Checotah anymore.
I'm in a world so wide,
It makes me feel small sometimes,
I miss the big blue sky,
The Oklahoma kind.
Where the Wildcats beat the Ironheads,
Old Settler's day and the Okra fest,
After prom, down at the bowling lanes,
Catching cr*ppie fish in Eufaula Lake,
I ain't in Checotah anymore.
I'm in a world so wide,
It makes me feel small sometimes,
I miss the big blue sky,
The Oklahoma kind,
But I ain't in Checotah,
No I ain't in Checotah,
Oh, there's nothing like Oklahoma.
Where 69 meets 40,
There's a single stoplight town.
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