We live of midwestern clay A vantage point above it all The space between the fields of corn The fields, and the flat clouds I got no idea what's keeping me in the air But nothing's keeping me on the ground I got no idea what's keeping me in the air But nothing's keeping me on the ground I biked pretty far out, up a few hills Sat next to a dirt road to watch the sky A truck drove by full of hay bails Kicked up the dirt then left I got no idea what I'm doing here But I'm here 'cause I got no place else to be I got no idea what I'm doing here But I'm here 'cause I got no place else to be