In a flat Forty-One with my strat by the door
We was goin' to the country for what we came for
I'm sure you've smelled the trees in the air
The best of motor cruisin's just the joy to get there
I was approachin' Simonton down by the cotton gin
There was old man, Berkman trying to flag me in
He asked if I would stay awhile and if I needed gas
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