| Flat on my back, halfway through a six-pack
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| Hear the neighborhood kids as they play
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| And the fire hydrant sprays, on this mid-August day
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| God, I wish I was so far away
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| She hitchhiked south down from Kalispell now
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| I am trying to recall how we met
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| She saw me stare as she tied up her hair
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| At a diner three miles outside
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| Of Twin Falls, Idaho late one night
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| And I offered her a ride
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| But she said «Let's stay the night»
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| Dragged her nails hard down my back
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| Until the crimson blood dripped down on sheets so white
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| She washed across the Northern Plains
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| Like a storm with no name, she was gone in three days
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| How I wish she stayed to rain on me
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| Ooh, and I thought I was safe
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| Swearing these winds of change could not blow us away
|
| But I learned I would pay for my mistakes
|
| At a diner three miles outside
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| Of Twin Falls, Idaho late one night
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| Like a half-ton of bricks, I’m laid down by my sins
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| 'Cause the temple where I used to pray
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| Is corrupt and profane, I blaspheme in her name
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| In a city where she’s never been
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| At least I have her name on my lips
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| Kept her hand right on her gun
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| And she cursed when she was done
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| With her breath hot on my neck
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| Whispered «Something to remember me, my love»
|
| She washed across the Northern Plains
|
| Like a storm with no name, she was gone in three days
|
| How I wish she stayed to rain on me
|
| Ooh, and I thought I was safe
|
| Swearing these winds of change could not blow us away
|
| But I learned I would pay for my mistakes
|
| At a diner three miles outside
|
| Of Twin Falls, Idaho late one night |