| Raised on a diet of no-doz, donuts, an' diesel emissions, listenin' to wrinkled
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| old men dronin' on about the weather and road conditions. |
| stayin;
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| five miles ahead of whatever’s behind, wonderin' where i went wrong.
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| And the strange city signs start to sound like rhymes in a never-ending song.
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| Just a one-horse town---no motel or bar. |
| just a wax museum, of dead hee-haw
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| stars. |
| you don’t look in a mirror, when you’re cold and mean. |
| stranded outside
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| tater knob, with just a juggs magazine.
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| Well i was sittin' at a table in a topless bar at the end of music row.
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| Watchin' fat girls strip to molly hatchett songs, hopin' their stretch marks
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| won’t show.
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| I spent my last dime on a watered-down drink, and i’m headed out for the door.
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| before i could kick myself for comin' here, i was already back for more.
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| My ex-wife ran a whorehouse on the highway out of town, they used to give
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| special truckers' rates before the baptists burned it down.
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| She had a tattoo on her inner thigh, said «if you can read this, yer too close».
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| We used to drive five miles for the nearest cold beer and bitch about the lives
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| we chose. |