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Edited on Fri Apr-23-04 04:59 PM by The Lone Liberal
I'm down to tellin' you my red-eyed mind It's not the sun bright path That called me from my home It's just that fine Backslider's wine
My momma sings out in my memory Son, don't take that black eyed shine Fight for your rights But, son don't fight for right And do not drink Backslider's wine
Spring has backslidden into winter. So I think I’ll stay home tonight, or as soon as I can take care of some standing obligations. On a rainy, sorta cool evening, some popcorn, a brew or beverage of choice and a great Godzilla retrospective is in order.
Well, at least in the years ahead when they ask me what did you do on Friday night during the war, I will not have to tell them, “well I shoveled shit in Louisiana!”
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