| How many trees to the west of here.
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| How many smokes left have you got.
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| I wanna stand but I’m talking to a cop.
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| There’s piss on my boots, how’d you make it stop.
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| Dance past looking for a crashed dance lot.
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| I’m alone, up on the top of the pine.
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| Let’s people, and makes the pine.
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| I be with an old lady, I’ll be ridin her lie, Oh
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| Smokin outside a copytail.
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| I won’t know when I fail.
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| She’s the liver of life, and no, they are not casual lost in the fog.
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| We got one kind of trouble, it’s a woman on a bed.
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| Take note, there’s still a hole in your heart.
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| Love in sit, and you bait to talk.
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| My young little soul, learning to walk.
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| Close that weary door like the house on the weary street.
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| I finally go in the blind heights.
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| I’m warm in the cold, that’s corn rows.
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| I finally go in blind heights.
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| That’s a cold toke, through the corn rows.
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| Take note, there’s still a hole in your heart. |