So few pearls, Lord, so few pearls. Here I sit, still wondering why they write all the sad songs about the rain. If I had known that some of those folks were going to end up legends I would have paid more attention.
Do the pretty girls still dance at the hoochie coochie shows at the fair? When I was thirteen I didn't consider that those sweet, innocent young girls from the midwest were anybody's victims. I assumed that they loved the attention and were happy in showbiz, seeing the world. I figured they made a lot of money. If I had any myself I would have given it all to them. Heck, I still would.
It's clouding up for a big storm now. Jamaica won't leave my side. Sometimes it's just all sad songs.
You can't lose by loving. Be careful that you don't waste any by hoarding it.
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