Two dollars plus an eighty-nine

Some old songs sure take me there,
to a time without a care.
Before the service drafted me,
and innocence began to flee.

Remember when my biggest fear,
was getting caught just drinking beer.
And worry how to get the wad,
to feed my tank and move my rod.

But yesterday I had a view,
of those old days when life was new.
I filled her up and feeling fine –
two dollars plus an eighty-nine.

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