| Standin' on side of the Highway 4 exit
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| A singing lady in tie-dye with a bag by her side
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| Not seemingly lookin' like anything special
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| She saw my Tennessee tags and she waved for a ride
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| She sat right there 'side me as the needle hit sixty
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| Explaining her travels and her family background
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| When she got through I could not help but thinking
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| She’s a long way from a West Nashville grand ballroom gown
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| Yes, she’s a long way from a West Nashville grand ballroom gown
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| Father had money and her mother had love
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| Channelled entirely to her dear sister Dove
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| Twenty-two years in society’s plan
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| Cancelled at the swing of her dear mother’s hand
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| Two hours later we hit Cincinnati
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| Yawnin', she woke up and then asked where we were
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| When she found out, she said «I must be goin'»
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| It seemed this close to Nashville was too close for her
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| So I stopped by the roadside and I gave her five dollars
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| She took it and she kissed me and she gave me a note
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| She told me I could read if I mailed it in Nashville
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| On old loose-leaf paper to her mother she wrote
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| 'Mama I’m fine if you happen to wonder'
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| 'I don’t have much money but I still get around'
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| 'I haven’t made church in near thirty-six Sundays'
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| 'So fuck all those West Nashville grand ballroom gowns'
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| 'Yeah, fuck all them West Nashville grand ballroom gowns' |