| If you’re romantic chum,
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| Pack up your duds and come,
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| You put your cares in hock,
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| And throw away the clock,
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| Well, you can be as lazy.
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| As a daisy drifting in a blue lagoon.
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| You’re wide awake at night,
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| Because you do your dreaming,
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| In the afternoon.
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| Way down in Mexico below the Border.
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| And in a spot like this,
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| If you refuse a kiss,
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| You’re out of order.
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| And when the moon is new,
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| It’s like a honeydew,
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| Come on and cut yourself a slice.
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| And if you can’t say Acapulco,
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| Then you can call it «Paradise».
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| You learn new caraches there,
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| When the mariaches start to play there.
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| Then after you decide,
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| That your crazy heart is gonna stay there.
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| And if I haven’t sold you
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| With the things I’ve told you,
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| That I must repeat it twice,
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| That if you can’t say Acapulco,
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| That you could call it «Paradise». |