| The real people went away
|
| But I’ll find a better word someday
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| Leaving only me and my dreams
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| My cattle
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| And a resonator
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| I drove all the beasts down
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| Right under your nose
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| The lumbering footloose power
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| The bull and the rose
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| Don’t touch them
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| Don’t try to hurt them
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| My cattle!
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| I drove them by the crops and thought the crops were lost
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| I consoled myself with rudimentary thoughts
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| And I set my watch against the city clock
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| It was way off!
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| One thing about this wild, wild country
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| It takes a strong, strong, it breaks a strong, strong mind
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| One thing about this wild, wild country
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| It takes a strong, strong, it breaks a strong, strong mind
|
| And anything less, anything less, makes me feel like I’m wasting my time
|
| But the pain and frustration is not mine
|
| It belongs to the cattle
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| Through the valley
|
| And when my cattle turns on me
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| I was knocked back flat
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| I was knocked out cold for one clack of the train track
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| And then I rose a colossal hand
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| Buried in sand
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| I rose like a drover
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| For I am, in the end, a drover
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| A drover by trade
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| And when my cattle turns on me, I am a drover double fold
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| My cattle bears it all away for me and everyone
|
| One thing about this wild, wild country
|
| It takes a strong, strong, it breaks a strong, strong mind
|
| And anything less, anything less, makes me feel like I’m wasting my time |