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  • There are still empty tables
    When we walk in.
    Just after midnight
    The night is young
    In Buenos Aires

    We lean in across the table
    Oh tango, she laughs
    It’s all the same.
    A lament about
    Their girlfriends don’t love them no more
    How they miss their mothers
    Cry they are so far from home
    Ask for the wish of one chance more
    She waves her hand
    Sweeping away all the worn clichés
    Or maybe the lingering smoke

    Oh tango, I think
    As we watched the dancers
    Spin like all the lonely planets
    Around their distant suns
    Oh tango,
    I ask with a glance
    And she takes my hand

    And we join the music
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