.Scatter me out on the prairie
Western gales supine the gray
Not that this matters
It's not thatâ
it'sâ
worn
Orâ
threadbareâ
andâ
battered
And the sunâ
must rise
And the sun must rise
Custerâ
sleeps with ball and scythe
A feather on his right
It's writ in.
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