To Hunting Ground from City.. That's where my baby took me with her smile.. To Hunting Ground from City.. I never thought that I'd have to retrace those miles..
Look under his floorboards, Mama,. I don't trust his silly grin. He's got a beat-up Rambler, Nebraska plates,. and I ain't getting in. I don't like the way his pinky ring.
My first recollection is a day in December. black iron steam engine covered in ice. like some Precambrian monster. moaning and snorting. Nothing was ever going to beat that beast.