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Though the wheat fields and the clothes lines
And the junkyards and the highways come between us
And some other woman crying to her mother
'Cause she turned and I was gone
I still might run in silence tears of joy might stain my face
And the summer sun might burn me 'til I'm blind
But not to where I cannot see you walkin' on the backroads
By the rivers flowing gentle on my mind
Take a look at my junk (random shit from my phone):

