| Well the train slipped into the station
|
| A worn out steel blue soul
|
| A relic from colonial days
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| When the French were still in control
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| Lorsque les Francais ont ete en controle
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| It’s an outpost in transition
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| Where the faithful in the bar
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| Know from the whistle and the squeaking wheels
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| That the next stop is Dakar
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| La prochaine etape etait Dakar
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| Talk on the radio
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| Talk on the street
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| Talk of men with money loco from the heat
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| Talk about the rail band
|
| Pickin up the beat
|
| We lit that great reunion
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| With the headlights on the jeep
|
| And there’s history on that jukebox
|
| Where the spies and scoundrels dwell
|
| It was the place to go in Bamako
|
| Direction Buffet Hotel
|
| Direction Buffet Hotel
|
| Now we’re lost in the Sahara
|
| Four hours north of Tombouctou
|
| Lookin' for a nomad who knows
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| Or maybe some wandering Jew
|
| Allons a Essakane, Syndou
|
| (Get us to Essakana, Syndou)
|
| Then we heard that Tuareg combo
|
| We had come so very far
|
| And we were welcomed out of history
|
| By the wind, the sand and the stars
|
| J’ai commence a le percevoir
|
| Sand in the couscous
|
| Sand in the wine
|
| There was sand in my guitar case
|
| Stories in my mind
|
| Machine guns on the hilltop
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| Camels in my tent
|
| Buried in a sandstorm
|
| As the music came and went
|
| Well we crawled out of that desert
|
| And the storm erased our tracks
|
| The Sahara showed her heart to us
|
| And then she took it back
|
| Well we made it back to Bamako
|
| Before that last call bell
|
| We bought rounds for all our newfound friends
|
| We owned Buffet Hotel
|
| Nous avons eu Buffet Hotel
|
| I recall dipomats
|
| And hookers
|
| I saw strangers diggin' wells
|
| And for that one great night in Bamako
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| We owned Buffet Hotel |