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Where are you going, my little one, little one,
Where are you going, my baby, my own?
Turn around and you're two,
Turn around and you're four,
Turn around and you're a young girl going out of my door.
Well, I don't know, but I've been told
You never slow down, you never grow old
I'm tired of screwin' up, tired of going down
Tired of myself, tired of this town...
Ladies love outlaws like babies love stray dogs
Ladies touch babies like a banker touches gold
And outlaws touch the ladies
Somewhere deep down in their soul.
You just call out my name, and you know wherever I am
I'll come running to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer, or fall, all you have to do is call and I'll be there.
You've got a friend.
My Indian woman from Wichita
With her whispered sighs and her child like sadness
Bared her soul to me as if tomorrow wouldn't live
The Indian woman from Wichita
With a way like wind on a sea like silver
Held me in her arms and gave me all she had to give
Love between us flows like a river to the sea
Love between us goes like the river-free.
Indian Woman From Wichita-Tom Rush
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