| There’s a piano playing on the ocean floor between Havana and New Orleans
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| Drummin' a requiem for the dead and the souls hanging on every poet’s prayer
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| Running to the rock, running to the sea
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| Prayin' to the Lord please shelter me
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| But the ground keeps shaking, water is boiling on fire
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| Blood pulsing through their veins like the waves crashing on the Malecón wall
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| Clocks stopping at twelve on the eve of a forgotten war
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| Luis drivin' a ‘59 making it half way across the Gulf
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| Stranded on the rock, stranded on the sea
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| There’s a wall in the ocean between you and me
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| Dreams of reaching dry land, talking to the fortune teller
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| Prisoners pounding the jail like the waves crashing on the Malecón wall
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| Someone lost an eye, someone lost the truth
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| Trying to save face, oh ‘neath the eyes of the Virgin el Cobre
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| Shout me a line sister, shout me a line sister
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| Oh I see your hands in the air, see you drowning on the other side
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| «Chief's in the parish and the drummers in the square
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| Walkin' across the fire, walkin' across the waves»
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| Sinner in the rock, sinner in the sea
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| There’s a sunken bridge ‘tween you and me
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| Running past the embassy gates, the Santería shrine
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| Blood pulsing through their veins like the waves they remember
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| Crashing on the Malecón wall |