|
on sponge cake |
| Watchin' the sun bake |
| All of covered with oil |
| Strummin' my six-string |
| On my front swing |
| Smell those shrimp they're beginnin' to boil |
|
| I the reason |
| I all |
| Nothin' to show but |
| it's a beauty |
| A cutie |
| How it got I haven't a |
|
| I blew out my flip-flop |
| on a pop-top |
| Cut my had to cruise on back |
| But in the |
| And soon it will render |
| That frozen concoction helps me hang on |
|
| away again in Margaritaville |
| Searching for my lost shaker of salt |
| that a woman to blame |
| I know it's my own fault |
| Yes and some claim that a woman to blame |
| And I know it's my own damn |