| She came from Austin, Texas
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| She liked his custom van
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| And his pitbull Francis
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| Even when he took a chunk out of her hand
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| They liked to dance in the desert and screw in the sand
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| He said they’d always be together
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| But when her belly got big she never saw him again
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| One and one ends up to be three
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| Don’t need to have love, don’t need to be sweet
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| But when the air gets heavy and it’s hard to breathe
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| The women get stuck, the men just leave
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| They were high school sweethearts from Portland, Maine
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| He was a writers block poet
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| And though she’d never read a line she still had faith
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| They ended up in La Jolia, she sold Mary Kay
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| He dreamed about getting published
|
| And when her belly got big he ran away
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| One and one ends up to be three
|
| Don’t need to have love, don’t need to be sweet
|
| But when the air gets heavy and it’s hard to breathe
|
| The women get stuck and the men just leave
|
| There’s a place in the desert where the men all meet
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| They park their vans in the shade
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| Talk about Kerouac and the works of the Beats
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| Let their dogs play together, drink beer and they sing
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| They’ve all got a secret treasure
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| Wallet picture in their pocket
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| Of the kids they never see
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| One and one ends up to be three
|
| Don’t need to have love, don’t need to be sweet
|
| But when the air gets heavy and it’s hard to breathe
|
| The women get stuck, the men just leave
|
| Men just leave, men just leave, leave |