Ode to a '67 Chevelle
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It was a cold September morn
that I found my love inside your horn.
I wiped the dip from oft my chin;
your engine roar enticed a grin.
With Skynyrd on the 8-track blarin',
in my lights a deer was starin'.
I swerved to miss that frightened buck--
smashed my car. Y'all, I'm ****ed.
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