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Lyrics

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JOHNSON GRASS

Pour me another my dreams do fly
Above the Johnson grass so high
Reflections of Daddyís dreams
Floating on a yellow submarine
He wore that open road so well
The Stetson hat he helped sell
Shared three letters L B J
So Lady Bird wonít fly away

Now he wears his hair a little long
Heís got seven telephones
Not used to being left alone
Heís got seven telephones
They donít ring like they used to

Hill Country boy with dirt on his shoes
Walking around with borrowed blues
Holding men and dogs up by their ears
Master of ten thousand fears
Heís drinking Fresca mixed with scotch
He damn sure loves these Stonewall rocks
Heís going to the folk fest to hear a band
He told the Secret Service to clap their hands

Now he wears his hair a little long
Heís got seven telephones
South Asia mess, who could have known?
Heís got seven telephones
They donít ring like they used to

His eyes could burn like a lighted fuse
Hold on so tight so you donít lose
Your brass halo and duct tape wings
Held you up awhile
then made a mess of things
Yeah itís time for you, itís time you had fun
The Mr President days are done
He says, ďmove over driver Iíll take the wheel
Before I forget how driving feelsĒ

Now he wears his hair a little long
Heís got seven telephones
Did he do more right than he got wrong?
Heís got seven telephones
They donít ring like they used to

Pour me another my dreams do fly
Above the Johnson grass so high