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1:14 p.m. - 2004-06-19 I like to take the wild roads Where wild Tiger Lilies grow, And thistles nod their purple heads. Then burst into a downy snow. The grassy field up ahead, Breaks forth, escaping from the trees, Tickled by the teasing wind Filled with hungry birds, and bees. Oh graying wood of weathered barn, With stories locked within your shell, I long to hear who�s farm this was, But sadly now, you cannot tell. I�ll pass the lawns well manicured, And sided boxes row by row. But I prefer the wild roads, Where wild Tiger Lilies grow.
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