Brent Beamer

Glycerine, in the back seat

She's touching me

Little things running through my head

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No windows down

It's autumn out

I'm in love

Fogging up all the windows in this truck

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She's got to go home now

And she says, "it's cold out."

I can see my breath in the air

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And I mean well

Not meant for long

Not meant to love her

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