|
In his cold little town there's no singing allowed |
|
No one smiles much and no one makes out and no one smokes down |
|
He had a click in his knee and a sore in his mouth |
|
Had a couple of girls but nothing so great to keep him around |
|
So from up on the tundra he wandered down |
|
like a stray cat running from the snow |
|
Took his mouldering boots off and breathed the air |
|
Tried to live on the beach and was seared by the sun |
|
Back on the farm his folks were up in arms crying, "our baby's a bum!" |
|
But them Florida Girls kept him at ease |
|
Ginger and rose and jasmine and all the other smells on the breeze |
|
Up from the marshes she came to him |
|
like a flip flop floatin' on a wave |
|
Like a hummingbird flying across the sea |
|
If you lose a wingbeat when you're over that sea |
|
You'll be swallowed by the drink, you'll sink and you'll sink |
|
You'll sink, you'll see |
|
But up in her room smells like sweet cinnamon |
|
Cedar and sage and incense and smoke but few men had been |
|
He's lost and he's gone |
|
Gotta heart like an orange |
