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Senor, senor, can you tell me where we're headin' |
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Lincoln County Road or Armageddon |
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Seems like I been down this way before |
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Is there any truth in that, senor |
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Senor, senor, do you know where she's hidin' |
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How long are we gonna be ridin' |
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How long must I keep my eyes glued to the door |
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Will there be any comfort there, senor |
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There's a wicked wind still blowing on that upper deck |
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And there's an iron cross still hanging from around her neck |
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There's a marching band still playing in that vacant lot |
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Where's she held me in her arms one time and said |
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"Forget me not" |
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Senor, senor, I can see that painted wagon |
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Smell the tail of the dragon |
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I can't stand the suspense here anymore |
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Can you tell me who to contact here, senor |
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Well, the last thing I remember before I stripped and kneeled |
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Was that trainload of fools bogged down in a magnetic field |
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And a gypsy with a broken flag and flashing ring |
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Said "Son, this ain't a dream no more, it's the real thing" |
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Senor, senor, you know their hearts are hard as leather |
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Give me a minute, let me get it together |
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I gotta pick myself up off the floor |
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I'm ready when you are, senor |
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Senor, senor, let's overturn these tables |
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And disconnect these cables |
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This place don't make sense to me no more |
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Can you tell me what we're waiting for, senor |