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High Noon - Lucette Bourdin



     
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High Noon Lyrics


[Red 1]Yo yo
We rude bwoys Van-city outlaws
Yo, the Red reaper, bust back your street sweeper
Call Mr. Martin and the preacher
To the saloon, the showdown high noon
Men dressed all black, yo pon cock platoon
Outlaws, shedding blood by the liter
Saddle up, ride into the sun, done defeat ya
Ride out and scout a safe hideout
With a bounty on my head, that's the word of the moth
Misfit and Red, wanted alive or dead
But Billy bad on the draw, cowboy ninja dread
Retreat to the bush where the Indians live
To survive off the land, recuperating
Yo, walk the warpath like a brave Mohican
Then scalpel the tongue chief rocker speaking
Young gun, bust and murder the sound boy
Anything in my way, no choice but to destroy

CHORUS
"Hold my ground like it's high noon"

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Lucette Bourdin was born in a small rural town in eastern France, near the Doubs river. She came to southern California in 1982 where she has dedicated her life to painting. Self-taught, she has found her way. She has acquired greater assurance as an artist as evidenced by her even bolder use of color and composition. Never timid, she has used color as an intimate expression of her inner self. These forays into her expeditions of psyche portray revelations of a playful yet sophisticated voyageur, and we are happily embarked with her on this personal journey of self discovery.

Read more about Lucette Bourdin on Last.fm.


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Lucette Bourdin