| Cold brass doorknob turns in my hand
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| I step off the deck worn smooth from the sand
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| The sun hits my face on the breeze I can taste the salt
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| The sky disappears in the blue of the sea
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| The beach like snow but it s hot on my feet
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| I m so far from there but I don t care I can see it all
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| Oh why are these memories picking me?
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| That pretty cotton dress and sand on your feet
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| There s waves in my heart and I can t even start to forget it
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| That memory is very pacific
|
| You slip from your dress, and I change from my tux
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| We ran through the rice, waved goodbye, wished us luck
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| We re finally alone and we ve barely slept at all
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| I remember your hair in my hands on your face
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| Your head in my lap in the seat on the plane
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| And I woke you up to show you the blue ocean
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| Oh why are these memories picking me?
|
| That pretty cotton dress and sand on your feet
|
| There s waves in my heart and I can t even start to forget it
|
| That memory is very pacific
|
| We agreed to disagree
|
| We agreed that I should leave
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| Blame it all on love gone wrong
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| And Mexico and being young
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| But now I know, that I never let go
|
| Oh why are these memories picking me?
|
| That pretty cotton dress and sand on your feet
|
| There s waves in my heart and I can t even start to forget it
|
| Ohhh why are these memories picking me?
|
| That pretty cotton dress and sand on your feet
|
| There s waves in my heart and I can t even start to forget it
|
| That memory is very pacific
|
| Oh my memory is very pacific
|
| Yeah, pacific
|
| Ohhh
|
| Ooooo |