And, for good measure:
There's a toad in the witch grass/There's a crow in the corn/Wild flowers on a cross by the road/And somewhere a baby is crying for her mom/As the hills turn from green back to gold.

And apropriately, right at this moment, we arrive at "Georgia Lee".
Why wasn't God watching? Why wasn't God listening? Why wasn't God there for Georgia Lee?

I'm gonna love you 'till the wheels come off/Oh, yeah.

A few months ago, I watched 12 Angry Men for the first time with my dad. He called attention to the scene where the clearly racist juror goes off on a tirade, and one by one everybody else in the room stands up and faces away from him. He said that was an ideal for what America is supposed to be. Tonight, we failed to…

I'm going to continue posting quotes from Mule Variations that I think are relevant. Consider it a coping mechanism.

I hope my pony knows the way back home.

Without love, it ain't nothing but a house where nobody lives.

Pin your ear to the wisdom post/Pin your eye to the line/Never let the weeds get higher than the garden/Always keep a sapphire in your mind.

If Putin and Trump continue to exercise their own egos on an international level, eventually one of them will get over their power fetish and get pissed off at the other. The next cold war is two years away tops.

You've got to get behind the mule, in the morning and plow.

I don't buy DVDs, and Russia might take away our internet again.

Embrace it, man. It doesn't feel like despair, but it doesn't feel like denial. You've got to hold on.

You've got to hold on, hold on, hold on. I'm actually crying right now. Fuck this world that insists on sabotaging itself over and over again.

I'm trying to think of things which I typically depend on in times of stress that I could survive the next four years with, but all of them are coming into question. Steven Universe might be taken off the air for promoting the gay agenda. Rock bands might stop touring in the south. The woods I like to walk in might be…

I recall a few months back there was a group topic on here about which record you would put on in the face of the apocalypse. At the time I said mine was Arthur (Or The Decline and Fall of the British Empire, but apparently I was wrong. It's actually Mule Variations.

So, Newt "Piss-drinking motherfucker" Gingrich will probably be our new secretary of state. That's nice.

A miracle, SBT. A miracle.

All the lies that you tell/I believed them so well/Take them back/Take them back to your red house/For that fearful leap into the dark.

Please, no.

Wait, not really, right?