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The Tim Version
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Gallons Of Style
I'm tradin' in all the hard, hard times Me and my friends have had through The years for a pair of old chucks And a worn thin shirt and somethin' That sounds sweeter to the ears.
When your hands and eyes are tied to Industry you stick a flag in something To call your own you're not left At all with an unhappy life, you're Just left with a sad, sad song.
To pull me out of the ground that's Where I'm run into anymore It all got buried in the cold Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com Hard ground so far down it all Burned to hell and nothin' ever Grows in the middle of a fire Except for dust and ash as far As I can tell.
Now the tough folks here keep On kickin' while the others All get stoned and fade away Nothing's ever done without a Sage or a drunk that doesn't Have something beautiful to Say.
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