| Speaking of dreams
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| Here we are in the glistening streets of Gay Paree
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| Playing the Gipsy Kings
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| After the rain and taking tea at the Ritz in boots and jeans
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| With a teenage girl who said that it would be her grandest dream
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| And speaking of dreams, I really must say
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| I couldn’t have dreamed you up
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| Nor the way you burst into my life, rattled my cage
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| And woke my sleeping demons up
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| You were not yet born
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| When my career began in '59
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| We’re a sign of the times
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| Who cares if you are a breath of spring and I am vintage wine
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| We come from two different worlds
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| Like every other couple on the Rue de Rivoli
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| You spent your youth in the rainforests of distant Camaroon
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| Your father was a Navy captain, I am the Queen of Hearts
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| And the daughter of the moon
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| Speaking of dreams
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| You took me to see the paintings of Paul Gaughin
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| Speaking of dreams
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| We stood in the midst of waterfalls, flaming trees
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| Golden dogs and shining Tahitian ladies
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| But it was you, not Paul Gaughin
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| Who stopped my heart and then
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| Started my life over again
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| And if you feel as I do
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| That we’ve erased the lines between reality
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| And all our painted dreams
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| Then take me down to where the Gipsies sing
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| The songs their mothers knew
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| Tie bright ribbons in my hair
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| Lean on the wind and watch me while I dance for you
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| And carry me off to the rainforests of distant Camaroon
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| Tell me that you’ve always know that
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| I am the Queen of Hearts
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| And the daughter of the moon |