Black Shoals

You coulda been rich, boy;
     you coulda owned the mountains.
We coulda done business, boy;
     we coulda hog-tied heaven like rodeo clowns.
But you wouldn’t meet my aspen fist, boy;
     you wouldn’t flirt with the slightest sandbank.
You shorted the wrong stock, boy,
     and got nothin but colors in return.

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