| She said she’d meet me down in Santa Fe
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| So we could do the Farolita Walk
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| She’d hire a car and we would drive all day
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| To Albuquerque or to Window Rock
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| Then watch the bonfires burn on Canyon Lane
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| As dusk descended and the daylight fade
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| But she was held up in the winter rain
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| And I was unavoidably delayed
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| She said she’d tie her waist-length hair in braids
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| And wear the sweater that I bought her once
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| And we’d make love for three or four decades
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| Then break to have a shower and lunch
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| And she’d have me cut her bangs and come
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| Down with her to the Indian trading post
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| But she heard a different drum
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| When I was spirited away by ghosts
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| I know she loved me
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| And I loved her too
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| But love will make a puppet
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| Out of you
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| She said she didn’t want my money, no
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| Despite her personal circumstance, and mine
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| And I respected that and spoke as though
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| All things were well, but listener I was blind
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| I walked right into such a tangled knot
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| While she foresaw the trap ahead
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| And shared some blessed second thoughts
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| And left me gazing at an empty bed
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| She said she’d meet me down in Santa Fe
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| She said she’d meet me down in Santa Fe |