See how the rain
|
Falls from the sky
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Drifting down
|
From your high mountain's eye
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But don't look surprised
|
You're going home
|
|
Yeah you're leaving L.A.
|
On a cloudy day
|
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
|
Down the highway
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All the way
|
Ah but see how, the lightning
|
Makes cracks in your air
|
Tearing the clouds
|
Then closing the tear
|
Yeah but you're not surprised
|
Anymore
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You're going home
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To Mexico
|
|
Four hundred years ago
|
Down in Mexico
|
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 Christ
|
Alive on his lip
|
But as soon as he touched ground
|
Well his men wanted to turn around
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So he burned down the turn around ships
|
Yeah he crossed all that water
|
With his cannon and fodder
|
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
|
Conquistador bold
|
Yeah Pachuco to Paradise
|
|
Yeah a Colorado rain
|
Falls on your California glass
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Washing away the hardline
|
From your California past
|
Ah but you're not surprised anymore
|
You're going home
|
Cause just out of 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
|
But your guns on your map
|
And they're both in your lap
|
Besides your Chic's with you
|
So you gonna get through
|
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
|
You're going home
|
To Paradise
|
|
-----------------
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Cortez Sail
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Terry Allen |