Abigail, the shore is frozen
Our tar trails have been bulldozin'
The teeth of your black ditch are sweet like the
Anne, let's die in some dim town
My brown eyes wait
The holes of highway bones are filled
But the tolls of
Mount Marcy is growing sparse
She is the farce that I
Oh I know everybody here's been dying to get back
The black figure of my body above your window as
My family does own some land where the river is
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