barrel racing

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My heart is racing fast,My adrenaline is singing.The wind is tearing at me,To my horse I'm clinging.
The big red horse Walks up to the gate, A spring in her step, Blaze bright on her face.   As they wait for the cue, Her muscles tense up. She stares through the gate
Quick motions,
I do not do drugs. Barrel racing is my high. Riding is my thrill.
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