| July tried to take my mind with bourbon and disease
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| August gonna kill me if she can
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| But eighty-five hundred K west of here
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| There’s a place so true and dear
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| Colorado
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| My ties for you it’s true
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| Got a temper and an eye for truth
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| Got a shot to shit sweet tooth
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| And I don’t need a day job where I’ll wither every day
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| Heading for the mountains where I think I’m gonna stay
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| Bury me at the rodeo show
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| The only home I’ll ever know
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| Where the rivers run with rye
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| Grass is fine and you can burn like inferno
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| 'Til all hell seems the lesser
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| Dead dreams at the rodeo show |