| It’s a desert place, far away
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| Where once the Indians lived, many moons ago
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| Where the ancient ways, have never changed
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| Where the time stood still, the land of Jimenez
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| Always on my mind, Guadalajara
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| Where mighty condors fly, in the valley
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| Where the silence calls, Guadalajara
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| In the golden sun, of Jimenez
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| With a broken voice and weary eyes
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| He turned the pages of, the diary of his life
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| About the slaughter of the Indian tribes
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| And I will not forget the words, that he once cried
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| Always on my mind, Guadalajara
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| Where mighty condors fly, high in the valley
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| Where the silence calls, Guadalajara
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| In the golden sun, of Jimenez
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| Before my very eyes, the old man died
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| And now I softly weep, the words that he once cried
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| Always on my mind, Guadalajara
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| Where mighty condors fly, high in the valley
|
| Where the silence calls, Guadalajara
|
| In the golden sun, of Jimenez
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| In the golden sun, of Jimenez |