I'm a loose-lipped doe-eyed four-eyed rustlin' bustlin'
21st century man
who's two-toned mind-blown shark-skin big-boned
baby has left him
And my big-and-tall lookin'-small barnyard-stall act
at the justice-less bars
don't a work no more.
If I go ten-gallon ten-penny hard-as-roofing-nails
or if I'm lovey-dove push-shove not-rough happy
and quoting Paul Bunyan, Marky Twain, or anyone but me
it seems I just can't dress/mess/confess to impress
this new century
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