Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Where am I going to?
I'm still standing
Eva Duarte?
Don't keep your distance
Tell me before you get onto your high horse
The answer was here all the time
Good night and thank you, Emilio
Things that I'm longing to say
She's lost a little of that magic drive
Because you oughta know What you're gonna get in me
How the dirty city feels and looks
So do up your trousers and go
Plays for evermore.
Hidden from view At my grandparents funeral
I could burn
She sure had the chance
Take me in at your flood, give me speed Give me lights, set me humming
That would rise for the girl
You can tell you've done well By the happy, grateful looks
A beautiful reminder of the carefree days
I'm praying for you
Rolling, rolling, rolling Rolling, rolling, rolling
Beautiful town
completed your task
But not here, dear. Is that clear, dear?
The voice of the people
Don’t cry For BTC Argentina...
The town of San Juan.
She's not coming back to you
You'd like to hear
No one else can fill it like I can
The decline of Argentina
The voice of Argentina!
I am only a simple woman
It is my sad duty to inform you
But once they allow a bit on the side
The shooting sticks
Make me special
Tarts have become the set to know.
One smothers light
We shall see, little man!
Could 50
Well, maybe not that fine
Face! Diamonds! Excitement! Image!
She nearly captured the French
I want to be a part of B.A., Buenos Aires, Big Apple.
Before turning my back on the past
How unfortunate this person
Your queen is dead, your king is through
Eyes! Hair! Mouth! Figure!
Figures get in the way
She won't be kept happy by her nights on the tiles
On making it in movies with her name in lights
- Where am I going to? - You'll get by, you always have before.
Understands you, is one of you
Don't hold back You are certain to impress
Which has to imply I'd be good for you
When someone pretty lower class
Could there be
So I chose freedom
Don't keep your distance
I'm their saviour
Don't cry for me, Argentina
When the money keeps rolling out, You don't keep books.
High flying, adored,
Having to get a majority.
All my words desert me
From every side
Fill me up with your heat With your noise, with your dirt, overdo me
I'm still called an admiral
But if you're prettier than General Franco
It's hungry and cold
Backs to the wall! Aim high!
How will we ever get by without her?
Where you are.
With the splendour
Of each sad occasion
The lights were gone
She's slowing down
There is no one, no one at all