Always Stay Komerade, My Pp



By daddy

A Country Song

I grew up overshadowed by big trucksCouldn't catch the eye of no city boyHere I am devoted to my ppHow I love the way you look in your purple jeansCan't believe I let the smog cloud my eyeWhere the big trucks standAnd the smelly trucks surroundI'll ride my big truck with you by my sideThere's a whisper in the alabama breezeReminding me of my foreskinThat whisper buildsThat whisper criesMy foreskin in the morning skiesYou appear on the horizonBrushing that ugly hair from your eyesThe city folk with their fancy gadgetsCement trucks like grey tombsDon't have nothin' on our way of lifeJust listen to the screamsDon't live your life like a western spyToday might feel a time to be like a western spyBut that ain't no way to lead a lifeYou know, there's a lot I drive by in my big truckFolk who is messing upAlways stay komerade, my ppAlways stay komeradeIn alabama, when I was a childI met a komerade man"How can you be so komerade?" asked IHere was his wise replyDon't live your life like a western spyToday might feel a time to be like a western spyBut that ain't no way to lead a lifeMet an old lady who lived like a western spy"What happened to her?" asked IHere was his wise repriseDon't live your life like a western spyToday might feel a time to be like a western spyBut that ain't no way to lead a lifeThat lady's gone nowIt's sad reallyWord is, she had ugly hair onceLittle my pp, keep your jeans purpleAlways stay komerade, my ppAlways stay komeradeScreams, screams, screamsScreams, screams, screams...