Twelve Towns

This fool's strings twing and twang on a main strip of lonely souls Our hearts stay full On a search for a mechanical bull And while my eyes are slurred and our speech is blurred Chris puts his hand on my shoulder Says, "we're not older just staying

We got over-served in Mohawk Bar With passing glances from the door to me With a handful of luck So I'll be here for a couple days The tallest me with two first names You see I don't get out much And I know that seems absurd to hear But if you take w

Winter Park, what a mess you've made us. After one long drive, we can hardly speak. So I'll set up camp on an itchy carpet Where, thanks to you, we'll make plans for the week. Eight words of advice: Keep your pneumonia the hell away from me. As you'v