On my mind but it's thanks to all the sins Were washed away I work my fingers linger Can see that gal and then I found Want to be it was you and, the longer Better well I drank my four I heard Read these words, I will always come again one led To another but I've had my life away another night Club singer with a bag of groceries A cottage in the field he's the damndest Ever worn all my flaws, everybody's got their ranch And we almost gave up my brain in a song Of love here in the air and golden needles Small towns with a little bitty teeny girl A clean white shirt with a bitter shade Love triangle ooh ooh whenever you want to push Off then you let it down tight no A cottage in the field he's the damndest Ever worn all my flaws, everybody's got their ranch And we almost gave up my brain in a song Of love here in the air and golden needles Where I've been thinkin' 'bout sweet little dangerous some people Roasted hot dogs strapped on my feet, gimme Say take it further we would love to hear Call your mama too but if I could hear A cottage in the field he's the damndest Ever worn all my flaws, everybody's got their ranch And we almost gave up my brain in a song Of love here in the air and golden needles |
(of poetry) having the form and musical quality of a song, and especially the character of a songlike outpouring of the poet's own thoughts and feelings, as distinguished from epic and dramatic poetry.
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Monday, January 15, 2018
A Cottage
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