| Out on the edge of an empty highway
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| Howling at the blood on the moon
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| Big diesel Mack come rolling down my way
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| Can’t hit that border too soon
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| Running hard out of Muskrat Flats
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| It was sixty days or double life
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| Hail on my back like a shotgun blast
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| High wind chimes in the night
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| Oh, oh, oh, the Pride of Cucamonga
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| Oh, oh bitter olives in the sun
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| Oh, oh I had me some loving and I done some time
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| Since I came down from Oregon
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| There’s a lesson or two I’ve learned
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| By standing in the road alone
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| Standing watching the fires burn
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| The northern sky it stinks with greed
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| You can smell it for miles around
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| Good old boys in the Greystone Hotel
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| Sitting doing that git on down
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| Oh, oh the Pride of Cucamonga
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| Oh, oh silver apples in the sun
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| Oh, oh I had me some loving, and I done some time
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| I see your silver shining town
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| But I know I can’t go there
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| Your streets run deep with poisoned wine
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| Your doorways crawl with fear
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| So I think I’ll drift for old where it’s at
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| Where the weed grows green and fine
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| And wrap myself around a bush of that bright, whoa, on Oaxaca vine
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| Yes, it’s me, I’m the Pride of Cucamonga
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| I can see golden forests in the sun
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| Oh, oh I had me some loving, and I done some time |