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BEN BOSTICK
UNDER THE PALMETTO MOON
On Friday nights
She waits for me
By the warehouse fence
When the whistle blows we go riding
Under the palmetto moon
I work all week
In that windowless hell
Counting down the hours
Till that engine roars and she holds me
Under the palmetto moon
We leave their world
In our dust
The night belongs to us
Only us
A motorbike is a powerful thing
With its throttle open wide
It cuts the night like a razor
And bleeds our blue hearts dry
We leave their world
In our dust
The night belongs to us
Only us
On Friday nights
She waits for me
By the warehouse fence
When the whistle blows we go riding
Under the palmetto moon
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