| California’s brighter than a paparazzi flash
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| Sentimental like a fake eyelash
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| High and mighty like a junkie’s mind
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| Down and dirty as a forty-niner (49er) mine
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| Won’t you come on over girl
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| And end this malaise?
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| I just can’t wait, to see you comin' through the LA haze
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| Martina, Martina
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| Come on over to our trailer
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| We’re feeling kinda low today
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| Crashed and burned down in LA
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| And you know that I’m not comin' on
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| But we wondered if you’d sing along?
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| If only you would harmonize
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| Find the smile in your grey, green eyes
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| My friend Chip he looks about to faint
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| Burned his finger on a skillet and he touched the wet paint
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| Swamp man’s pounding on a borrowed drum
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| Pablo’s still waitin for the sushi to come
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| I’m feelin like a third string back up singer, 'neath a quarter moon
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| But I’m half way to your heart, girl
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| Won’t you meet me there soon?
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| Martina, Martina
|
| Come on over to our trailer
|
| We’re feeling kinda low today
|
| Crashed and burned down in LA
|
| And you know that I’m not comin' on
|
| But we wondered if you’d sing along?
|
| If only you would harmonize
|
| Martina, Martina
|
| Come on over to our trailer
|
| We’re feeling kinda low today
|
| Crashed and burned down in LA
|
| And you know that I’m not comin' on
|
| But we wondered if you’d sing along?
|
| If only you would harmonize
|
| Find the smile in your grey, green eyes
|
| (Grey, green eyes)
|
| (Grey, green eyes)
|
| (Grey, green eyes)
|
| (Grey, green eyes) |