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By The Fireside

de Jump, Little Children

Ten years he said from the front seat,
Heading south on Georgia concrete,
With time runnin' short in a white Escort,
We had the end of the world to beat.
Believe me there's no denying,
That the earth is rapidly dying,
Heading 95 south with a Camel in his mouth
My eyes were burning but not crying.

Ten minutes east of Conyers Town,
We hit a massive fuss wearing cherry brown,
He said

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