One, two, three, four!
Well every highway that I go down
Seems to be longer than the last one that I knew about
Oh well
And every girl that I walk around
Seems to be more of an illusion than
the last one I found
Oh well
And this old man in front of me wearing canes
and ruby rings
And it's like a dang explosion when he sings
And with every chance to set himself on fire,
He just ends up doin' the same thing
wooden
which
where
wearing
tires
three
there
tells
situations
sings
seems
whether
rubber
rings
rocks
riddle
cream
thing
shake
chance
explosion
every
colder
across
canes
forest
screams
alley
other
found
around
front
filled
fires
wanted
nothing
highway
himself
illusion
little
longer
beautiful
about
moving
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