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Rated: E · Poetry · Crime/Gangster · #2114587
Charles Schmid, The Pied Piper of Tuscon.


Let's take a ride to the moon little girl.

On Saturday night your hair's up in curlers
for church the next day.

Leave the root beer at home and put your boots on.
No stars out tonight like they knew you'd be gone.

Let's ride little girl 'til the road disappears.
They say God is love but God is not here.

Let's ride on the sunset like all's been forgiven.
I'll show you what daddy does for a living.

Let's ride through the desert until we're alone.
'Til mama can't hear the wind on your bones.

Let's take a ride to the end of the sea.
Let's ride, let's ride, little homecoming queen.

Let's take a ride to the moon little girl.

On Saturday night your hair's up in curlers
for church the next day.

Do you know what a mirage is.

C'mere.

Let me whisper in your ear.


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