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See how the rain |
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Falls from the sky |
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Drifting down |
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From your high mountain's eye |
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But don't look surprised |
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You're going home |
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Yeah you're leaving |
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L.A. On a cloudy day |
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Pushing the crowd away |
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You gonna get away today |
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An you turn on your radio |
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An let the wind blow |
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With your rock n roll |
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Down the highway |
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All the way |
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Ah but see how, the lightning |
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Makes cracks in your air |
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Tearing the clouds |
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Then closing the tear |
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Yeah but you're not surprised |
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Anymore You're going home |
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To Mexico |
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Four hundred years ago |
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Down in Mexico |
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The Spanish galleons drew near |
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And the Aztec warriors watched |
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From their mountain sides |
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Yeah the fear in their eyes |
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As clear as their end it was near |
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Yeah Cortez he come |
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With his men and his guns |
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And a Spanish |
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Christ Alive on his lip |
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But as soon as he touched ground |
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Well his men wanted to turn around |
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So he burned down the turn around ships |
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Yeah he crossed all that water |
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With his cannon and fodder |
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If need be to slaughter |
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For Gods and for gold |
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An he wouldn't let no man |
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Talk him in to being anything other than |
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Conquistador bold |
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Yeah Pachuco to |
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Paradise Yeah a |
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Colorado rain |
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Falls on your |
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California glass |
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Washing away the hardline |
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From your |
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California past |
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Ah but you're not surprised anymore |
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You're going home |
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Cause just out of |
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Cortez Well the radio man says |
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That they's a lookin for you |
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They gonna get you |
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But your guns on your map |
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And they're both in your lap |
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Besides your |
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Chic's with you |
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So you gonna get through |
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Ah but see how the lightning |
|
Makes cracks in your air |
|
Tearing the clouds |
|
Then closin the tear |
|
Yeah but you're not surprised anymore |
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You're going home |
|
To Paradise |