"Waitin' on a Sunday afternoon
for what I've read between the lines.
Your lies. Feeling like a hand in rusted
shame, so do you laugh or does it rye?
Reply.

Leaving on a southern train.
Only yesterday, you lied.
Promises of what I seemed to be,
only watched the time, go by.
All of these thing you said to me.

STP, Interstate Love Song.

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Remember boys, flies spread disease, so keep yours closed!!!