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The papers lie there helplessly |
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In a pile outside the door |
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I've tried and tried, but I just can't remember what they're for |
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The world outside is tugging like a beggar at my sleeve |
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Oh, that's much too old a story to believe |
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And you know that it's taken it's share of me |
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Even though you take such good care of me |
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Now you say "Morocco" and that makes me smile |
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I haven't seen Morocco in a long, long while |
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The dreams are rolling down across the places in my mind |
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And I've just had a taste of something fine |
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The future hides and the past just slides |
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England lies between |
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Floating in a silver mist so cold and so clean |
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California's shaking like an angry child will |
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Who has asked for love and is unanswered still |
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And you know that I'm looking back carefully |
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Because I know that there's still something there for me |
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But you said "Morocco" and you made me smile |
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And it hasn't been that easy for a long, long while |
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And looking back into your eyes I saw them really shine |
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Giving me a taste of something fine |
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Something fine |
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Now if you see Morocco I know you'll go in style |
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I may not see Morocco for a little while |
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But while you're there I was hoping you might keep it in your mind |
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To save me just a taste of something fine |