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The
World's Oldest Boy* |
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I guess I still have one last quest Dragons guard this Virgin
Gorge As I coast along this downhill grade Tomorrow's sand has not yet blown This is how I waste
my days Grabbing dragons by their tails Those giants
looming on the hills If I could only stop my mind When I face that final
glare Her face was pale as a swoon I'd pledge my sword to her as queen To some she seems a peasant girl She spent her life like it was gold If at last I'm forced to dwell Dry reality still pales She always was a choosy thief If some small voice said we had sinned Sometimes I long to be uncouth I could rest in paradise If a man becomes so proud There is no rich
man on this earth Every lyric that you hear It's time to trade deserted nights In that sea of flesh so tan |
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"Dulcinea" was the name (derived from "dulce," Spanish for "sweet") that Cervantes came up with for Don Quixote's fair damsel, who was actually just a dull peasant girl. Placed in the Virgin River Gorge in the northwest corner of Arizona, where I took the cover photo, this song shows how unhinged just the sight of a beautiful woman can leave a man. |
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