First of the month. Brings back the notion. Of a big round white dance hall. On a cool summer night. Red cherub faces set black shoes in motion. To the oompa pa rythem of a German delight.
I crossed the Mississippi,. Turned south at San Antone. A bowie knife, a woolen coat,. A grip bag on my arm. It's all somebody needs to make it through the land.
I crossed the Mississippi,. turned south at San Antone. A bowie knife, a woolen coat,. a grip bag on my arm. It's all somebody needs to make it through the land.