Margarita

Margarita

Gilby Clarke

I ain’t the talking type
Down at the bar tonight
Drinking off my former lovers
In the melancholy darkened room
I smelled your cheap perfume
An angel in Latin bartender

Chorus
Margarita – sweeter than all the others
Margarita – spilled you under the covers
Margarita – you go down smooth, like a shot of gold Patron

Can’t spend the night together
I fear you’ll tell your brother
What you lost I couldn’t borrow
In all the ecstasy, you grabbed your rosary
Ask forgiveness tomorrow

Margarita

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