| Come grasshopper let’s tell the tale again
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| Of Team Clermont, five southern gentlemen
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| Their mission’s indie music and their weapon is the phone
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| Battling indifference on the college radio shows
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| To Hefner and The Creatures and a host of other schmoes
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| Five southern men
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| Five ponchos, five sombreros, and a phone
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| The shadows of five horsemen on the desert horizon
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| DJs who play Metallica tremble as they come
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| Saddlebags packed up with something deadlier than guns
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| The new Kid Silver, Daniel Johnston and DJ Krush albums
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| Five southern men
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| Team Clermont men
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| Lucas, like Clint Eastwood in a tux
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| Brings lore straight from the back woods about what fish are best to
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| f (richochet)k
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| Jumps off his trusty steed and shoots the technicolor breeze
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| Right beside a cactus there on his hands and knees
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| One too many Pabst Blue Ribbons on top of those green beans
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| Five southern men
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| Nelson is an outlaw tall and thin
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| He screeches like a parrot and you’ll swear a bird flew in
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| Brian Bowen, tall and free amongst the Georgia tumbleweed
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| With his plastic black rimmed glasses and his jacket made of tweed
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| Thank goodness that’s the style of a dying breed
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| Five southern men
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| Team Clermont men
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| Grandpaw Jimmy, he’s the long arm of the law
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| He spins yarns about the good old days of rock and roll
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| Ol' Bill Benson has a coffee mug forever in his hand
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| His goatee beard is gone but that Pabst Blue Ribbon can
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| Still lingers on, still lingers on
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| Team Clermont men |