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Well, I left my motel room, down at the Starkville Motel, The town had gone to sleep and I was feelin` fairly well. I strolled along the sidewalk `neath the sweet magnolia trees;
I was whistlin`, pickin` flowers, swayin` in the southern breeze. I found myself surrounded; one policeman said: "That`s him. Come along, wild flower child. Don`t you know that it`s two a.m."
They`re bound to get you. `Cause they got a curfew. And you go to the Starkville City jail.
Well, they threw me in the car and started driving into town; I said: "What the hell did I do?" He said: "Shut up and sit down."
Well, they emptied out my pockets, took my pills and guitar picks. I said: "Wait, my name is..." "Awe shut up." Well, I sure was in a fix.
The sergeant put me in a cell, then he went home for the night; I said: "Come back here, you so and so; I ain`t bein` treated right."
Well, they`re bound to get you, cause they got a curfew, And you go to the Starkville City Jail.
I started pacin` back and forth, and now and then I`d yell, And kick my forty dollar shoes against the steel floor of my cell. I`d walk awhile and kick awhile, and all night nobody came.
Then I sadly remembered that they didn`t even take my name. At 8 a.m. they let me out. I said: "Gimme them things of mine!" They gave me a sneer and a guitar pick, and a yellow dandelion.
They`re bound to get you, `cause they got a curfew, And you go to the Starkville City Jail.
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