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Pasture Child
by
Dominic Fike
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She grew up, half-Dakota, half-Louisiana pastor child All of her skirts went past her ankles Pitch-black, no TV on after nine She picked the phone up and she wrapped the cable on her finger And I spoke gently And then I tried to pretend to hold her against me And it sounds like ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh And it sounds like ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh Back before we went digital, digital, digital Way back before you went digital, digital, digital She grew up then became All-American mastermind She wrote a book, I wasn't in it I still call and she pick up time to time But sometimes don't get no signal And the ringer plays so gently And then I still pretend to hold her against me And it sounds like ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh And it sounds like ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh Back before we went digital, digital, digital Way back before you went digital, digital, digital And it sounds like ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh And it sounds like ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh Back before we went digital, digital, digital Way back before you went digital, digital, digital Oh, yeah Dun, dun, dun, dun Dun, dun, dun, dun Way back before you went digital, digital, oh, digital, yeah Ayy yeah, ayy yeah Dun, dun, dun, dun Dun, dun, dun, dun
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