| Kids out driving Saturday afternoon just pass me by
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| And I’m just savouring familiar sights
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| We shared some history, this town and I
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| And I can’t stop that long-forgotten feeling of her
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| Time to book a room and stay tonight
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| Number one is to find some friends to say, «You're doing well
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| After all this time, you boys look just the same»
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| Number two is the happy hour at the one of two hotels
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| And settle in to play, «Do you remember so and so?»
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| And number three is, never say her name
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| Oh, the flame trees will blind the weary driver
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| And there’s nothing else could set fire to this town
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| There’s no change, there’s no pace
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| Everything within its place
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| Just makes it harder to believe that she won’t be around
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| Oh, who needs that sentimental bullshit, anyway?
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| You know it takes more than just a memory to make me cry
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| And I’m happy just to sit here
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| At a table with old friends
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| And see which one of us can tell the biggest lies
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| And there’s a girl, she’s falling in love
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| Near where the pianola stands
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| With a young local factory out-of-worker
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| Just holding hands
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| And I’m wondering if he’ll go or if he’ll stay
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| Do you remember?
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| Nothing stopped us on the field in our day
|
| Oh, the flame trees will blind the weary driver
|
| And there’s nothing else could set fire to this town
|
| There’s no change, there’s no pace
|
| Everything within its place
|
| Just makes it harder to believe that she won’t be around
|
| Oh, the flame trees will blind the weary driver
|
| And there’s nothing else could set fire to this town
|
| There’s no change, there’s no pace
|
| Everything within its place
|
| Just makes it harder to believe that she won’t be around |