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Annabelle, I'll be gambling 'til my bones are 'neath the apple field
Silver rain makes green every once in a while
I been lost, lost at every crossing, I was just drifting cold
Couldn't tell you how many times I was ready to fold
Finally found us some good luck, let's see if it lasts
Cold, cold, every shoulder, still I learned to lean and freeze
Your roaring smile campfire lit up the trees
Aw, my gal, she's a silver bell, she pulls straight from the loam
Just a kiss from your lips and I'm ready to go
Finally found us some good luck, let's see if it lasts
Swing high, swing low, come to carry
We're here on the ground, but I swear it's heaven
Writer(s): Gregory Alan Isakov
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