Don’t tell Tyra
In our folk choir, Miles and I are singing John Prine’s “Paradise.” Miles has listened to the song many times, but he seems to have misheard the lyrics.
M:Â Where the air smelled like snakes and we’d shoot with our pistols
But empty top models was all we would kill.
For reference, the original lyrics:
Where the air smelled like snakes and we’d shoot with our pistols
But empty pop bottles was all we would kill.
