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You don't smoke, but you do tonight. You do alot of things tonight you would have never done. Like listen to the song playing as you watch the cigerette stroll down the boardwalk of ash to burn your skin. You don't care about the burn, the cold, or who sees.
Starving lyrics and acoustic picking for those souls that wrote poetry in their favorite three minutes. It's the post in a field that's never found a fence it's part of.
It's not country. This is western. This is pasture, this is horse, this is ranch real life. Can't tell if the calluses are from the six string, or sixteen hours we did to get all these brands done. Hat tip, boot flask sip, wise crack philosophy over a fence post that dries up under the desert sun. Fuckin' no one plays music that tells an authentic story anymore. Guess that's why this breed is dying.
Songs to listen to when you need the heart strings played like a harp or a blues guitar. Maybe a piano, I don't know. I can't tell when I'm crying, it's something that is sad. No genre exclusivity, just exclusively not having a good time here.