lunes, 11 de mayo de 2009

Hernando's Hideaway, olé!

I know a dark secluded place,
a place where no one knows your face.
A glass of wine, a fast embrace:
it's called Hernando's hideaway,

All you see are silhouettes,
and all you hear are castanets
and no one cares how late it gets,
not at Hernando's hideaway,

At the Golden Finger Bowl
or any place you go

You will meet you Rocco,
and everyone you know

But if you go to the spot I'm thinking of
you will be free to gaze at me
and talk of love

Just knock three times and whisper low
that you and I were sent by Joe.
Then strike a match and you'll know
you're in Hernando's Hideaway,

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