Testo originale
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Well, everybody's got their own destination
But I, I don't have one at all
Well, everybody favours their particular situation
But I don't favour much at all
So I'm rolling 'long with a fine-looking country girl
Boy, I tell you she's got it all
Don't come around here trying to sell me your
messed-up bitchin'
I got my old beat-up ball
