| Every day at dusk when the sun fades
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| My mind returns to the everglades
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| A place alive with green mangroves and vine
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| Shotguns and snakes, alligator wine
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| Nobody knows so they never think to visit
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| Where the atmosphere’s so thick that you could kiss it
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| I’ve never seen copper heads darting from their graves
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| A once mighty oak’s red roots… in decay
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| In my heart there’s a place called swampland
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| Nine parts water — one part sand
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| In my heart there’s a place called swampland
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| Nine parts water — one part sand
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| Rangers jet through on their hovercraft
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| Me I take it slowly… using a raft
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| To them it’s the home of the hungry piranha
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| To me it is sheer nirvana
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| In my heart there’s a place called swampland
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| Nine parts water — one part sand
|
| In my heart there’s a place called swampland
|
| Nine parts water — one part sand
|
| In my heart there’s a place called swampland
|
| Nine parts water — one part sand
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| In my heart there’s a place called swampland
|
| Nine parts water — one part sand |