| Well here I am again
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| In a foreign town where I know no one
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| On another continent
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| Well it’s four o’clock and I’m with someone
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| That I haven’t met before
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| But I don’t feel like I should leave
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| Well I might not find the door
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| Anyway the miracle’s stirring me
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| So play on let 'em play for me
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| Just drag that bow across the string
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| So play on let 'em all night long
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| Oh I love to hear our gypsies songs
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| Away, away, oh I’m far away from home
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| Away, away, and the wonder lingers on
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| Postcards, stamps, and songs
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| And bottles spilled on letters long
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| The wind through my own hair
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| At Normandy where I wish you were
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| Markets strange and surreal
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| Where black eyes flash from corners dark
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| The Young ones poor and infirm
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| They lift their hands to your own heart
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| Well I’ve seen this before
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| Old ones come to pass
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| With empty eyes bed where there’s grass
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| Skites with steel knuckles and knives
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| Waiting for a thrity franc paradise
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| Away, away, oh I’m far away from home
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| Away, away, and the wonder lingers on
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| Vodka warm and sharp
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| Just like what I might drink with you
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| In a glass on an empty bar
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| Quite similar to where I would sit with you
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| And the bar maid smiles at me
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| And she asks to go and I agree
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| Into a Spanish night
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| Into something that I’ve never seen |