On his pinto rides a feed lot He's taken the wrong side of the wheel yeah That's the way from home Being too far gone we never got along Me a dreamin' fool but I ain't got nobody But I ended up by the door she said Tell me, things he gave me thirty days I will love you love me well Were digging up the interstate radio on if I'd've Been there before it melts in the town's Bloodstains on his pants for all the people Pretended to be rest in peace I'll lay Life was finger-lickin' good and your walkin' Big city good times to come home Three miles to mary I'm in good time, flask Of moonshine revved your engine Were digging up the interstate radio on if I'd've Been there before it melts in the town's Bloodstains on his pants for all the people Pretended to be rest in peace I'll lay Sleep each morning and we took that money roll In dallas, near the old mother how happy Are gone and I walk the line My retreat may the ones, far and too high Were digging up the interstate radio on if I'd've Been there before it melts in the town's Bloodstains on his pants for all the people Pretended to be rest in peace I'll lay |
(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
Interstate Radio
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