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words and music by |
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Arlo Guthrie |
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It's the tenth of |
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January And |
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I still ain't had no sleep |
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She comes wa |
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Itzing in the nighttime |
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Made of wings |
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She is dressed up like a bandit |
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With a hundred sparkling rings |
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Looking for my company to keep |
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Coming closer to me |
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She doesn't say a word |
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In the shadow of the carved rock tower |
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Where the sounds of the night |
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Were the only things we heard |
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In my darkest hour |
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She don't want to hear no secrets |
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She would guarantee me that |
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She knows there ain't no words |
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That can describe her |
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With her white silk scarves |
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And her black |
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Spanish hat |
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She knows there ain't no way |
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I can deny her |
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Yes her blue velvet perfume |
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Filling up the night |
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The guards are all asleep |
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That watch the tower |
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The moon light held her breast |
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As she easily undressed |
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In my darkest hour |
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Her father's in his chambers with his |
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Friends all gathered 'round |
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They are plotting their enemy's demise |
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With their last detail done |
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They await the coming sun |
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While I am staring in my lover's eyes |
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Her brothers and her sisters |
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Are all through for tonight |
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Pretending that they've just |
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Come into power |
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But she far most of all, knows that they |
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Can only fall |
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In my darkest hour |
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Hungry wings; their melodies |
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While my love awakens me |
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In the midst of the sunburst first light |
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Her hands are holding up the skies |
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As I hid my opened eyes |
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Every move just for herself |
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And that's so right |
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Soon I went along my way |
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With no words that could explain |
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As she began descending to the tower |
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Her safety now concerns me |
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Her circumstance to blame |
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In my darkest hour |