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Concrete Cowboys

Concrete Cowboys eat grinded grits

They don't always wear hats

or sling guns on their hipsThey know a song by the taste on her lips

And he's as lonesome on any given day

as the sound of that far away train

that he prays someday will take him awayLucky Lucinda was a big city girl

Hungerin' for Country in a Rock-n-Roll world

Dice shooting Darren was a sucker for Mearle

She saw the hollow look in his eyes

She longed to slide his boots under her bed tonightYou'll never make him at home

for he's a ramblin stone

Little girl, he can get darker than you've ever known

And he always rides alone

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