| Her skin is copper and her voice is Spanish red
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| Her vibe is golden 'till her anger kills it dead
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| She wants the world to see
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| A body rich in harmony
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| A mouth cruel as death
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| She rides a fantasy she hasn’t tested yet
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| She looks in every mirror to check her silhouette
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| The turning heads
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| The honking horns
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| Gave proof to her
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| Since she was born
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| That love is her game
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| She loves me, Miss Argentina
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| Though she hides behind her smile
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| She runs free, Miss Argentina
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| Dripping blood
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| With lots of style
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| She loves to stay in bed and watch the movies play
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| She wants a husband who will worship and obey
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| The moods that she enjoys like children’s' games and football toys
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| She laughs without shame
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| She likes the military and the Rolling Stones
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| Her little brother has a T-shirt from Ramones
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| She’s shy and sensitive and doesn’t know the tougher games
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| But boy can she love
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| She’s easy, Miss Argentina
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| A masterpiece without a frame
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| She runs free, Miss Argentina
|
| But Venus is a dangerous game
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| She saves my spirit with a humanistic light
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| She’s greedy, lazy and impossible to like
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| She dresses sexually
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| And she’s afraid of many things
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| Like being alone
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| She’s back with mother now
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| She’s over twenty-five
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| I tried to keep her, but she buried me alive
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| In love and birth and jealousy
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| And every emotion totally freed
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| Screaming at once
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| But she loves me, Miss Argentina
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| While she hides behind her smile
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| She runs free, Miss Argentina
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| Dripping blood with lots of style
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| She’s lovely, Miss Argentina
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| A masterpiece without a frame
|
| She’s easy, Miss Argentina
|
| But Venus is a dangerous game |