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We all came out to montreux |
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On the lake geneva shoreline |
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To make records with a mobile |
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We didnt have much time |
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Frank zappa and the mothers |
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Were at the best place around |
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But some stupid with a flare gun |
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Burned the place to the ground |
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Smoke on the water, fire in the sky |
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They burned down the gambling house |
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It died with an awful sound |
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Funky claude was running in and out |
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Pulling kids out the ground |
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When it all was over |
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We had to find another place |
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But swiss time was running out |
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It seemed that we would lose the race |
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Smoke on the water, fire in the sky |
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We ended up at the grand hotel |
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It was empty cold and bare |
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But with the rolling truck stones thing just outside |
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Making our music there |
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With a few red lights and a few old beds |
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We make a place to sweat |
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No matter what we get out of this |
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I know well never forget |
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Smoke on the water, fire in the sky |
