Monday, July 12, 2010

I had a jukebox graduate for first mate





She couldn’t sail but she sure could sing
I pushed the b-52 and bombed em with the blues
With my gear set stubborn on standing
I broke all the rules, strafed my old high school
Never once gave thought to landing
I hid in the clouded wrath of the crowd
But when they said come down I threw up
Ooh-ooh growin’ up


Celebrating AMERICA at Cordarounds.

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