Fri
12-Sep-2003
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good bye johnny cash
The windmills're turning on the west Texas plains but he's dry as an old river bed
He's just like the dust that's a searching for rain but he knows he'll be ridin' again
So he rolls up a smoke and he sips his Old Crow
Whipes the whiskers that cover his chin
He grins as he dreams of the next rodeo to be the all around cowboy again...
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