| Concrete Cowboys eat granite grits
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| They don’t always wear hats
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| Or sling guns on their hips
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| They know a song by the taste on her lips
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| And he’s as lonesome on any given day
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| As the sound of that far away train
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| That he prays someday will take him away
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| Lucky Lucinda was a big city girl
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| Hungerin' for Country in a Rock-n-Roll world
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| Dice shooting Darren was a sucker for Mearle
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| She saw the hollow look in his eyes
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| She longed to slide his boots under her bed tonight
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| You’ll never make him at home
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| For he’s a ramblin stone
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| Little girl, he can get darker than you’ve ever known
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| And he always rides alone
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| You’re best to leave him alone
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| For he’s a ramblin stone
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| Little girl, things can get darker than you’ve ever known |