| We’d been in love awhile,
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| But Barcelona made us one,
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| On the Festival of Mercy,
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| When the fountain was aflame.
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| Up on the highest hill,
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| I’d never felt a deeper thrill
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| Than the way you pulled me closer,
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| And the way you said my name.
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| I dream sweet dreams
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| Of the music in the plazas,
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| And the color of the lights,
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| When you and I
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| Shared love’s exhilaration
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| On those Barcelona nights.
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| We wandered endlessly,
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| Drank in the beauty of the place,
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| Saw the sketches of Picasso,
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| And the ruins underground.
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| We talked in wonderment
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| Of all the years alone we’d spent,
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| Grew silent, in amazement,
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| At the miracle we’d found.
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| I weep inside,
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| For the time when every evening
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| Brought a host of new delights.
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| Oh please, my love,
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| Don’t say we’ve lost the magic
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| Of those Barcelona nights.
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| How well you loved me then.
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| You could not bear to turn away,
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| But always kept returning
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| To ask for one more kiss.
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| You seem so different now,
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| Your manner pleasantly blasé.
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| My broken heart refuses
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| To believe we’ve come to this.
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| I dream sweet dreams
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| Of the music in the plazas,
 | 
| And the color of the lights,
 | 
| When you and I
 | 
| Shared love’s exhilaration
 | 
| On those Barcelona nights.
 | 
| I dream sweet dreams
 | 
| Of the music in the plazas,
 | 
| And the color of the lights,
 | 
| When you and I
 | 
| Shared love’s exhilaration
 | 
| On those Barcelona nights. |