| I would never normally go bowling
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| On a Friday morning in New Orleans
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| But I like to come here to remember
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| The kind of places you took me
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| Like the time we stole a Datsun
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| And drove all night to the Everglades
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| Until we crashed it in a big electric storm
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| And stood there listening to the bayou rain
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| The county sheriff had a harelip
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| Louisiana’s pride and joy
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| He said politely as he cuffed me
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| «I never busted an English boy
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| But I will accept a contribution
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| To the Opelousas' Charity Ball
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| But you better drive this dirty Datsun
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| Into the Gulf of Mexico»
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| Under a Cajun moon I lay me open
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| There is a spirit here that won’t be broken
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| Some words are sad to sing
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| Some leave me tongue-tied
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| (But the hardest thing to tell you)
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| But the hardest words I know
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| Are I love you goodbye
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| I love you goodbye
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| Typhoon Pierre delayed my plane till morning (Jusqu'au matin)
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| Let the bontemps rouler from your accordion (L'accordien)
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| Under a cajun moon I lay me open (Y'a un esprit partout)
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| There is a spirit here that won’t be broken
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| (Simple words are sad to sing)
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| Some words are sad to sing
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| (They leave me tongue-tied)
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| Some leave you tongue-tied
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| (But the hardest thing to tell you my friend)
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| The hardest words I know
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| (Is I love you goodbye)
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| I love you goodbye
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| (Je t’aime, au revoir)
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| I love you goodbye
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| (Je t’aime, toujours)
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| I love you, goodbye |