Colt Stands Up, Grows Horns
Sunset Rubdown
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I follow the trail you left in the snow.
Picked up your footsteps and made them my own.
One thousand and one. One thousand and two.
Oh, the gravity of you…
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You gave me an item, when you gave me these idle hands
And you twist up the wind, 'til the snow turns to sand and I can't find the trail back home.