Triumph > when we walk that hill,
when we walk that hill,
to a red Vaux beer on a box car top.
Acclaim > for we're off the upper
in the three point rain,
waiting tables turned.
And the striding pain is just a sprain.
And the tracking's listing,
the steering's shot, but look
*check the sideways lingo* Listen.
We'll be high on tops of keys
we'll drift in green and lush and
split these pick beak bills, thus:
we'll steer ourselves shifty, feed
ourselves fifty, stay hungry and dig,
we'll Leatherette lick the postal
order toward a brighter one.
We'll save the cow today.
On the island of small victories,
sacred moments come.
Peak attitude is sheer collective
and the view up here,
shall earn ourselves
some handsome.
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