| Winters are grey in Tennessee
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| That don’t usually get to me
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| But here lately I’ve bin missin' the sun
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| So I caught a plane to cousin Lille
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| Thought a weekend in that salty air would do me good
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| At least I thought it would
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| Here I sit with a drink in my hand
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| Local canteena with a sign hanging sayin'
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| Something in Spanish 'bout
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| Let the good times roll
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| Between the sandy beeches and the margaritas
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| Thought I’d find a way to let you go
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| But there’s not enough tequila in Mexico
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| Your memory didn’t come around
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| No not until the sun went down
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| And I startin' wishin' I had you to hold
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| It’s a feelin that just won’t fade
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| Even a thousand miles away
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| I still want you back… with every glass
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| Between the sandy beeches and the margaritas
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| I thought I’d find a way to let you go
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| But there’s not enough tequila in Mexico |