| I was lonelier than Kunta Kinte at a Merle Haggard concert
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| That night I strolled on into Uncle Limpy’s Hump Palace lookin' for love.
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| It had been a while.
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| In fact, three hundred and sixty-five had come and went
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| since that midnight run haulin' hog to Shakey Town on I-10.
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| I had picked up this hitchhiker that was sweatin' gallons
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| through a pair of Daisy Duke cut-offs and one of those Fruit Of The Loom
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| tank-tops.
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| Well, that night I lost myself to ruby red lips,
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| milky white skin and baby blue eyes.
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| Name was Russell.
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| Yes, a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin'
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| Yes, a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin'
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| Well I find it’s quite a thrill
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| When she grinds me against her will
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| Yes a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin'
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| Well, faster than you can say, «shallow grave»,
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| this pretty little thing come up to me and starts kneadin' my balls
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| like hard-boiled eggs in a tube sock.
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| Said her name was Bambi and I said, «Well that’s a coincidence darlin',
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| 'cause I was just thinkin' about skinnin' you like a deer.»
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| Well she smiled, had about as much teeth as a Jack-O-Lantern,
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| and I went on to tell her how I would wear her face like a mask
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| as I do my little kooky dance.
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| And then she told me to shush.
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| I guess she could sense my desperation.
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| 'Course, it’s hard to hide a hard-on when you’re dressed like Minnie Pearl.
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| Yes, a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin'
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| Yes, a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin'
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| Well I find it’s quite a thrill
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| When she grinds me against her will
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| Yes, a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin'
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| So, Bambi’s goin' on about how she can make all my fantasies come true.
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| So I says, «Even this one I have where Jesus Christ
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| is jackhammering Mickey Mouse in the doo-doo hole
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| with a lawn dart as Garth Brooks gives birth to something
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| resembling a cheddar cheese log with almonds on Santa Claus’s tummy-tum?»
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| Well, ten beers, twenty minutes and thirty dollars later
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| I’m parkin' the beef bus in tuna town if you know what I mean.
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| Got to nail her back at her trailer.
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| Heh. |
| That rhymes.
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| I have to admit it was even more of a turn-on
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| when I found out she was doin' me to buy baby formula.
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| Yes, a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin'
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| Yes, a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin'
|
| Well I find it’s quite a thrill
|
| When she grinds me against her will
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| Yes, a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin'
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| Day or so had passed when I popped the clutch,
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| gave the tranny a spin and slid on into
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| The Stinky Pinky Gulp N' Guzzle Big Rig Snooze-A-Stop.
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| There I was browsin' through the latest issue of «Throb»,
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| when I saw Bambi starin' at me from the back of a milk carton.
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| Well, my heart just dropped.
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| So, I decided to do what any good Christian would.
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| You can not imagine how difficult it is to hold a half gallon of moo juice
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| and polish the one-eyed gopher when your doin' seventy-five
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| in an eighteen-wheeler.
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| I never thought missing children could be so sexy.
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| Did I say that out loud?
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| Yes, a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin'
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| Yes, a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin'
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| Well I find it’s quite a thrill
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| When she grinds me against her will
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| Yes, a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin' |