| Theres a place i know
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| Where senora zargas girls go
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| Where they wait for the red moon to rise tie their
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| Dancing shoes and set their passion free
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| There is blood in the air
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| 'round that little old gipsy dance square smell of gunpowder, sweat and good
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| wine soon
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| Colored cards decide each destiny
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| Women of santiago
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| Feel the sothern wind blow
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| Its time to tango-time to crush a heart
|
| Women of santiago
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| Always dance with heads up high
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| Tthough the sweet and sour til they die
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| As the rythmns rise
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| Jealousy allures like cat eyes
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| Every step -a knife in the wound
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| A choreography of language from the heart
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| Women of santiago
|
| Feel the southern wind blow
|
| Its time to tango-time to crush a heart
|
| Women of santiago
|
| Always dance with heads up high
|
| Though blessed and cursed-til they die
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| Theres a place they say
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| Were senora zargas girls stay
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| Til the sunrise revils every sin
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| And laughter let a new day begin
|
| Women of santiago
|
| Feel the southern wind blow
|
| Its time to tango-time to crush a heart
|
| Women of santiago
|
| Always dance with heads up high
|
| Though blessed and cursed-til they die |