Less talk, more dancing
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If we could push off the sick conversation one more night
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I surely would
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My shoes have gathered the dust of the vineyard
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Have I soiled your gown?
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There's soil on your gown, like sangria
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Cleanses the heart
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Our clogged hearts are choking on the grime
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As the big band waltzes on
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Your stranded eyes whisper...
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"The dirt is out.
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I can smell her on your velvet hands."
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The dirt is out --
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are we stuck in the motions again?
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Oh, but was it sweet
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In the vineyard
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Sangria, won't you bless
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The starving lips
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Such virgin lips
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Would choke on all this grime
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I've found some dirt under my nails
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I'll scratch and bite until...
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The dirt is out
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but sangria burns under my skin
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The dirt is out --
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I thought I'd never wash these hands again
|
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Under my skin....
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-----------------
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The Dirt Of The Vineyard
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Cursive |