Margarita
Gilby Clarke
I ain't the talking type,
Down at the bar at night,
Drinking off my former lovers.
This melancholy, darkened room,
I smelled your cheap perfume,
An angel in Latin bartender.
Chorus:
Margarita, sweeter than all the others.
Margarita, I spilled you under the covers.
Margarita, you go down smooth like a shot of gold Patron.
Let's spend the night together,
I fear you'll tell your brother,
What you lost I couldn't borrow.
In all your ecstasy,
You grab your rosary,
Ask forgiveness tomorrow.
Repeat chorus
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