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Francés
Portuguese
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Matthew
par
Tyler Childers
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Letra
He works the night shift at the depot With a pistol and a light And he guards them rusty missiles Counting whitetail to pass the time And he's worked there for a long while Since he came home from overseas Helping Kilcoran fight the good fight And bring Baghdad to its knees And it was hotter than the mountain But it weren't so he couldn't stand And it weren't so much the heat wave Nearly as much as all the sand Now his daddy, he's a log man With a good leg and a fake That he got off of a buddy And a shitshot that he made And he worked them hands to splinters And he raised them young'uns right On a little bit of scripture And an acreage of paradise And he'd go out on the weekend And he played like Clarence White If Clarence had had a real job And picked the guitar when there was time Keeps a trap line in the winter Keeps a line wet in the spring On a lock wall, fishing muskie With his eldest and Steve And they swap tales about their raisin' And they tell the awfulest lies And they go home when they've a notion And the muskie quit to bitin'
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