Purple Gas

I’ve got plates for Purple Gas
Bout the only break I catch
But I am not the kind of man
To blame the dealer on a losing hand
Have a lone star in my eye
The darker the sky
The brighter it shines
Pumpjack cheques and baler twine
A ton of grit or maybe it’s spite
And if I weren’t a flatland boy
I’d say I have a hill
A hill that I will die upon
if the climb don’t get me killed