| The papers lay there helplessly
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| In a pile outside the door
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| I’ve tried and tried, but I just can’t
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| Remember what they’re for
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| The world outside is tugging
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| Like a beggar at my sleeve
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| Ah, that’s much too old a story to believe
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| And you know, that it’s taken it’s share of me
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| Even though you take such good care of me
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| Now you say Morocco, and that makes me smile
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| I haven’t seen Morocco for a long, long while
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| And dreams are rolling down
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| Across the places in my mind
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| And I just had a taste of something fine
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| The future hides and the past just slides
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| England lies between
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| Floating in a silver mist
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| So cold and so clean
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| And California’s shaking like some angry child will
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| Who has asked for love and is unanswered still
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| And you know that' I’m looking back carefully
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| 'Cos I know that there’s still something there for me
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| But you said Morocco and that made me smile
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| And it hasn’t been that easy for a long, long while
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| Looking back into your eyes
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| Oh, I saw them really shine
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| Giving me a taste of something fine
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| Something fine
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| Now if you see Morocco, oh I know you’ll go in style
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| I may not see Morocco for a little while
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| But while you’re there I was hoping
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| You might keep it in your mind
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| To save me just a taste of something fine
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| Something fine |