Down at the train they go to Independence everyday

But anywhere else now seems like a million miles away

And I must have been high to believe that I would ever leave

Now I'm just a flat fine line like the Wichita skyline



I rode on the airstream across the great lonesome afternoon

I wished hard enough to hurt, drove fast enough to catch the moon

But I must have been dreaming again 'cause there's nothing around the bend

Except for that flat fine line, the Wichita skyline



As far as Salina I can get that good station from LaRue

I'm searching the dial while I'm scanning the sky for a patch of blue

And I watch the black clouds roll in chasing me back again

Back to the flat fine line, the Wichita skyline