| The train waits impatiently all I want is her company
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| The red sky
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| The postcard-shaped unreality
|
| Lets say 1950 or whatever It may have been
|
| The year I lost puberty
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| The year that nothing that nothing could part us
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| And the world turned around for me
|
| And her eyes were younger then we’d ever been
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| The cuban marriage in secrecy
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| And the urge to fight their liberty
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| As she whispers
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| Nothing can take you away from me
|
| And by the light of the moon
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| They sway throught hte room
|
| And the years fell from her look
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| They know they are stranger
|
| In a life that is filled with pain
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| But she feels him
|
| Their souls are forever chained
|
| And maybe when we’re older
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| And stelled for less and got bolder
|
| Maybe then we’ll see
|
| Maybe when we’re older
|
| And our dreams are lost way yonder
|
| Maybe then we’ll see
|
| What it means to really be…
|
| Lets say 1950
|
| Was the year we believed
|
| That stars weren’t out of reach
|
| Those days with my family
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| My only brother and me
|
| And maybe when we’re older
|
| And settled for less and got bolder
|
| Maybe then we’ll see
|
| Maybe when we’re older
|
| And the years are lost way yonder
|
| Maybe then we’ll see
|
| What it means to really be… |