| We were drivin through West Texas
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| The land of beef and pork
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| Where they tend the hides of leather
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| We wear back in New York
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| In a pasture, along a roadside
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| Behind a brokedown shack
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| On a dusky side of evening
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| We saw a figure dressed in black
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| And we don’t mean to sound like we’re trippin
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| But we swear to God
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| We saw Lou Reed cow tippin
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| Cow tippin
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| Hey Lou, «Is that you?»
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| She said as we pulled to the shoulder
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| He just said, «Go screw.»
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| And then he turned and tipped one over
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| Under a spitshine Western sky
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| The color of blue varnish
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| Hey it’s like Fellini
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| Actually I’m thinkin more like Jim Jarmusch
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| And we can’t say how much we’ve been sippin
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| But we swear to God
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| We saw Lou Reed cow tippin
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| Cow tippin
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| I got cops on the cell
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| I said I got a little story to tell
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| Lou Reed is in the cow pen
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| They said, Oh no! |
| Not again!
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| And we hope our perceptions isn’t slippin
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| But we swear to God
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| We saw Lou Reed cow tippin
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| Cow tippin
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| Cow tippin
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| Cow tippin
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| Cow tippin
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| You really think that was Lou Reed?
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| Cow tippin
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| I’m sure it was, he was wearing black Levis
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| Cow tippin
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| I thought he was a vegetarian
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| Cow tippin
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| He’s just tippin them over, he wasn’t eating them
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| Cow tippin
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| Oh
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| Cow tippin |