| Up in Pocahontas in the Cranberry Glades
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| Ain’t got bars, nor the charge to call her anyways
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| My mind’s a mile a minute
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| And my thoughts they bark like hounds
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| I focus on my breathing and the universal sound
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| I think about my darlin' girl sleepin' all alone
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| I pray the stars will shoot her all the wishes she can hold
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| On the day that I return I aim to lay her down
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| But right now I am focused on the universal sound
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| I think about tobacco juice and mason jars of shine
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| I think about the vices I’ve let take me over time
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| I recall when I’s a baby, I didn’t need nothin' around
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| But a little bitty rattler and the universal sound
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| I’d close my eyes
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| It was all so clear
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| It was all right then
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| It was all right here
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| I focus on my breathin' and the universal sound
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| I let it take me over from the toenails to the crown
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| Of the body that I’m in till they put me in the ground
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| And I return to the chorus of the universal sound
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| I’ve been up on the mountain
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| And I’ve seen his wondrous grace
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| I’ve sat there on a barstool and I’ve looked him in the face
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| He seemed a little haggard, but it did not slow him down
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| He was hummin' to the neon of the universal sound |