| There’s a place in Los Angeles called Coldwater Canyon
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| There’s a girl with cinnamon hair livin' there
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| In a two-room flat, just off the main drag
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| After my show at the Palomino, she took me there
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| We sang songs and drank sangria til early morning
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| Talked about my home back in Tennessee
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| And bout all them crazies hangin' down Sunset Strip
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| We made love on her floor and listened to reggae
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| She slipped into my shirt and fixed some breakfast
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| Cappuccino and tangerines and toast
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| We smoked cigarettes and read the morning paper
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| And never talked about when I would leave the coast
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| 'Cus we both knew I had to head on back to Nashville
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| We both knew she had a shot there in Hollywood
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| And we both knew I had a plane to catch that evening
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| And sad goodbyes never do no-one no good
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| So we spent the afternoon rehearsing her lines
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| For a part that she was playing that next week
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| And she took me to the airport and just dropped me
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| With a sad smile and mascara running down her cheeks
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| She hit the 405 and never even looked back
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| And i got on board and I was feeling abandoned
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| As the plane headed east I searched my window
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| For a place in Los Angeles called Coldwater Canyon
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| Oh there’s a place in Los Angeles called Coldwater Canyon |