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Blue Skies

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Give up the ghost of who you thought you’d be
and leave the pickled peaches for Gene Autry
for the blue-sky melodies don’t reach down here.

         “Blue skies smilin’ at me
          Nothin’ but blue skies do I see”

Turn your back on the horizon’s fading glare,
and let the shadow of the ridge line take you whole,
leave the pickled peaches for Gene Autry.

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