them branches, tune them voice up, move them price up, cruise them nice truck, buy them
acres, who no like work, fold them high red, chew them livestock, through the valley of
death, shoot me eyes up, yeah, my heart a gone, yeah, my light cut, yeah, me memory
every day when me find shot, now this is just a flow from my cup, and them price them high
stock, every day my grave full, plain full of nice stock