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The old man had cancer And the old man’s wife was dead And the old man’s kids didn’t like him
So the old man sold most everything And the old man bought a motorcycle And the old man got back
To the backroads, to the roads he’d enjoyed So much as a young man, And the old man figured what the hell,
I’m sick I don’t have long I might As well die falling off this thing Somewhere: this affordable, this moving,
This very last roaring thing on these roads.
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