The Blackwater Fever back roads

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riding the back roads, 12 hounds on my trail
closing in slowly, driving me straight to hell
i got it wound open, further then a clock strikes twelve
the devil is waiting, with open arms
maybe i could change my ways, turn this all around
but a rackin' and a ruin', the only way I know how
hell‘s around the corner and the walls are closing in
the devil is waiting, with open arms

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