|
Nibblin' on |
| the sun |
| of those tourists covered oil |
| Strummin' my six-string |
| On my front porch swing |
| those shrimp to |
|
| I know the |
| I stayed here all season |
| Nothin' to but brand tattoo |
| But it's a |
| A mexican cutie |
| How it here I haven't a clue |
|
| I blew out my |
| on a |
| Cut my had to on back home |
| But in the blender |
| And soon it render |
| That concoction that me hang on |
|
| away again in Margaritaville |
| Searching for my lost shaker of salt |
| Some people that there's a woman to blame |
| But I it's my own fault |
| Yes and some people claim that there's a to blame |
| And I know it's my damn |