| Born to the red rising sun
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| A silver ring and a bottle of rum
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| The lonesome coup is nothing new
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| i’ll toast it anyway just for fun
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| how could we know about this?
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| She gave that little ring a twist
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| She swelled up and cried as if something has died
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| I felt it slip right through my fist
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| The ivy on the wrought iron gate
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| I’m beginning to like at any rate
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| The wind in the trees sing my decrees
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| You know of 'another'till we wait
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| I can feel you
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| When you’re 500 miles away or if you’re in the next room
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| I can feel you yeah yeah
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| A flat bed on a dusty road
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| A rusty red and a heavy load
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| Sometimes it’s fast and sometimes it’s trash
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| But it’s as loud as the rooster crows
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| It goes ahead a mile, in that cigarette redneck style
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| Across the line on highway 9
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| I haven’t seen you in quite a while
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| ooo ooo ooo ooo ooo ooo ooooo ahh
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| I’ll take the quickest way
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| Across the river by the rolls of hay
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| The local farms are such a charm
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| The apple tress and the dapple gray
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| Born to the red rising sun
|
| A silver ring and a bottle of rum
|
| The lonesome coup is nothing new
|
| I’ll toast it anyway just for fun
|
| ooo ooo ooo ooo ooo ooo ooo oooahh |