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Lyrics:
He's got a one bedroom trailer, an' a brand-new satellite dish, a warm beer an' a remote control in his two clenched fists, An' he sits in his chair, thinking of all the things he's missed. Livin' on crank, pork rinds, and cold beer. It's Saturday night, time to go hunt some queers. With his momma's .38, he can blow away all his fears.
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