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Jimmy Buffett




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Альбом Jimmy Buffett


Banana Wind (04.06.1996)
04.06.1996
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By: Jimmy Buffett

Scales and clocks just can't be trusted
Keys and locks are destined to be busted
Metaphors were never made for keeping score
And I'm feeling for the sound of time

hoo hoo hoo hoo
hoo hoo hoo hoo
hoo hoo hoo hoo
hoo hoo hoo hoo

Is it the answer or just a suggestion
Is love what we truly want or merely a protection
Is this music made to last or crumble like a shell
Is there heaven here on earth or is this really hell

Only time will tell if I am right or I am wrong
Only time will tell is there a message in this song
Will it ever make sense will it ever ring a bell
Only time will tell

hoo hoo hoo hoo
hoo hoo hoo hoo
hoo hoo hoo hoo
hoo hoo hoo hoo

Are we destined to be ruled by a bunch of old white men
Who compare the world to football and are programmed to defend
I'd like to try a princess or a non-terrestrial
Who is neither boast nor bashful is there really such a girl

Only time will tell if I am right or I am wrong
Only time will tell is there a message in this song
Will it ever make sense will it ever ring a bell
Only time will tell

I woke up this morning feeling absolutely grand
For nearly half a century I've been singing in a band
I'd like to think I'll make it to two thousand and one
Will the party be at my house God I wonder who will come

Only time will tell if I am right or I am wrong
Only time will tell is there a message in this song
Will it ever make sense will it ever ring a bell
Only time will tell

Only time will tell if I am right or I am wrong
Only time will tell is there a message in this song
Will it ever make sense on this crazy carousel
Only time will tell

hoo hoo hoo hoo
hoo hoo hoo hoo
hoo hoo hoo hoo
hoo hoo hoo hoo

hoo hoo hoo hoo
hoo hoo hoo hoo
hoo hoo hoo hoo
hoo hoo hoo hoo


. . .


By: Jimmy Buffett

Some folks say that I've got the perfect life.
Three swell kids, lots of toys and a lovely wife.
I fly. I sail. I throw caution to the wind.
Drift like a stratus cloud above the caribbean.

But every now and then
The dragons come to call.
Just when you least expect it you'll be dodging cannon balls.
I've seen to much not to stay in touch with a world full of love and luck.
I've got a big suspicion 'bout ammunition.
I never forget to duck.

(Chorus)
Come back
Come back
Back to Jamaica
Don't you know we made a big mistaica
We'd be so sad if you told us goodbye
And we promise not to shoot you out of the sky

It was a beautiful day
The kind you want to toast
We were treetop flyin'
Movin' west along the coast
Then we landed in the water
Just about my favorite thrill
When some asshole started firin'
When we taxied to Negril

Just about to lose my temper
As I endeavored to explain
We had only come for chicken
We were not a ganja plane
Well you should have seen there faces
When they finally realized
We were not some coked up cowboys
Sportin' guns and alibies

(Chorus)
Come back
Come back
Back to Jamaica
Don't you know we made a big mistaica
We'd be so sad if you told us goodbye
And we promise not to shoot you out of the sky

They shot from the lighthouse
They shot from the highway
They shot from the top of the cliff
They'd all gone haywire
We're catchin' fire
And there wasn't even a spliff

Well the word got out
All over the island
Friends, strangers, they were all apologizin'
Some thought me crazy for bein' way to nice
But it's just another shitty day in paradise

Come back
Come back
Back to Jamaica
Don't you know we made a big mistaica
We'd be so sad if you told us goodbye
And we promise not to shoot you out of the sky

Come back
Come back
Back to Jamaica
Don't you know we made a big mistaica
We'd be so sad if you told us goodbye
And we promise not to shoot you, promise not to shoot you,

. . .


By: Jimmy Buffett & Matt Betton

I got a school boy heart, a novelist eye
Stout sailor's legs and a license to fly
I came with nomad feet and some wandering toes
That walk up my longboard and hang off the nose

I suppose
The need to focus never arose
So something like a swiss army knife
That's my life
Frankenstein had nothing on this body of mine
The villagers still flockin' to see, to see me
Breaking free, breaking free

Cause I got a school boy heart, a novelist eye
Stout sailor's legs and a license to fly
I got a bartender's ear and beachcomber's style
Piratical nerve and a Vaudevillian style

I suspect I died in some cosmic shipwreck
With all hands spread all over the deck
What the heck
Then some kind of obscene and unscrupulous mind
Began to pick up what he could find
Added ice, shook me twice, rolled the dice

Now I got a school boy heart, a novelist eye
A sailor's legs and a license to fly
I got a native tongue from way down south
It sits in the cheek of my gulf coastal mouth

I got a school boy heart, a novelist eye
Stout sailor's legs and a license to fly
I came with nomad feet and some wandering toes

. . .


By: Jimmy Buffett, Ralph MacDonald, Bill Eaton, William Salter

The weather channel girl
with her perfect weather curl
is talking cold, cold, cold
You can't get out of bed
you can't remember what you've said
you're feeling old, old, old

Is it fever or depression
anger or agression
what's the remedy?
We're not talking rocket science
the answer to your question's
very plain to see

Chorus
You need a holiday
take a holiday
find a far off wonderland
where you might regain command
of your life today

Take a holiday
you need a holiday
grab a pack and hit the trail
take a sail
and wind up in some moonlight bay

You're caught up in the Internet
you think it's such a great asset
but you're wrong, wrong, wrong
All that fiber optic gear
still cannot take away the fear
like an island song

Disregard confession
Stop trying to make impressions
on your corporate climb
it might come as quite a shock
but you can't really own that rock
it's just a waste of time

So, take a holiday
you need a holiday
find a place to find yourself
take your life down off that shelf
quit acting so blase

Take a holiday
you need a holiday
grab a pack and hit the trail
take a sail
and wind up in some moonlight bay

Well it's only up to you
no one else can teach you to
go out and have some fun
though if you want to stay alive
evade the big nose dive
be a comedian

And take a holiday
you need a holiday
find a far off wonderland
where you might regain command
of yourlife today

Take a holiday
you need a holiday
grab a pack and hit the trail
take a sail
and wind up in some moonlight bay

You need a holiday
take a holiday
find a place to find yourself
take your life down off that shelf
quit acting so blase

Take a holiday
you need a holiday
grab a pack and hit the trail
take a sail

. . .


By: Jimmy Buffett

Well, You've heard about the alligators sleepin' in the shade
You've heard heard about the sugar barons screwin' up the 'glades,
It's a melting pot existance
That is hard to contemplate
And a never ending battle in the Sunshine State.

But far, far away from the front page news,
Far, far away from the headline blues,
Down a secondary road that severely shows its age
The forties comes to life on a make-shift stage.

It's the Bob Roberts Society Band.
Playing every Sunday at the Orange Grove Stand.
They don't play grunge and they don't play loud.
It's the magic of the music that still draws a crowd.

Well, the word goes out
From Melbourne to the Keys.
The faithful get the message
Like it's written on the breeze.
Young folks, old folks,
'Bout to cut a rug
Fox Trot, Bunny Hop,
Do the Jitterbug,

To the Bob Roberts Society Band.
Playing every Sunday at the Orange Grove Stand.
They don't play grunge and they don't play loud.
It's the magic of the music that still draws a crowd.

I saw mini vans from Boca,
Buses from Perrine.
There were people speaking Hindu
In the Bar-B-Que line.
A couple on their honeymoon
Looked a bit confused.
But the boys in the band put 'em right in the mood.
They played.....

A lady dressed in purple started dancing all alone
Then she sauntered oh so gently to the vacant microphone.
She sounded like she's someone and never missed a beat.
By the time the number ended they were dancin' in the street.

They'd died and gone to heaven,
That lively little crowd,
Trombones and saxophones
Sent 'em through the clouds.
It could have gone all night
But the party had to stop.
When they blew the circuit breaker
In the souvenir shop.

It's the Bob Roberts Society Band
Playing every Sunday at the Orange Grove Stand
They don't play grunge and they don't play loud
It's the magic of the music that still draws a crowd.

It's the Bob Roberts Society Band
Playing every Sunday down at the Orange Grove Stand
They don't play grunge and they don't play loud
It's the magic of the music that still draws a crowd.


. . .


By: Jimmy Buffett

Legal problems gettin' thick and hazy
Look at the people gettin' rich and crazy
Locked up in mansions on the top of the hill
Someone needs to tell them 'bout overkill

Overkill, overkill
Such a megalo modern problematic ill
Climb too fast and shove too hard
You'll be pushin' up the daisies in the old boneyard

Ah uh
Ah UH
Ah uh
Ah UH

I went to find the truth in the Himalayas
Bundled up half-frozen munchin' Milky Way-uhs
Found a shaman in a diaper with a poppy pot
When I asked if he was cold he said "I just think hot"

Overkill, overkill
Such a megalo modern problematic ill
Climb too fast and shove too hard
You'll be pushin' up the daisies in some old boneyard

Ah uh
Ah UH

WMR:
Out in Hollywood the paper money rolls
They feed their egos instead of their souls
A million here, a million there
A mindless corporate dance
Gettin' paid for fuckin' off in the south of France

They don't do the shows
But they act like the stars
They fly around in G-4's and suck on big cigars
It ain't about the talent
It ain't about the skill
It's all about the silly stupid horseshit deal!

Overkill, overkill
Such a megalo modern problematic ill
Climb too fast and shove too hard
You'll be pushin' up the daisies in the old boneyard

[ horn/pan break ]

I got no corporate gig
I got no guru (ah UH)
I don't own ocean front in Honolulu (Ah uh)
You write the big checks
But I pay your bills
Now someone's got to tell you 'bout overkill

Overkill, overkill
Such a megalo modern problematic ill
Climb too fast and shove too hard
You'll be pushin' up the daisies in some old boneyard

Overkill, overkill
Such a megalo modern problematic ill
Climb too fast and shove too hard

. . .


By: Jimmy Buffett

Desdemonas Building A Rocket Ship
Desdemonas Going Away
Desdemonas Building A Rocket Ship
Blasting Off Today
She's Got A Passion For Cookies
A Crew Full Of Rookies
It's Going To Be A Hell Of A Blow
Desdemonas Building A Rocket Ship
And I've Got To Go

A Women On A Mission
Quite Familiar With Quasars
Her Heart Is In A Kitchen
But Her Soul Is In The Stars
Crystal Clear On Logic
But Short On Expertise
This Is A Very Ancient Puzzle
She Feels Herself A Piece

Desdemonas Building A Rocket Ship
Desdemonas Going Away
Desdemonas Building A Rocket Ship
Blasting Off Today
She Got A Passion For Cookies
A Crew Full Of Rookies
It's Going To Be A Hell Of A Blow
Desdemonas Building A Rocket Ship
Guess I've Got To Go

She Was Down In Puerto Rico
Doing A Scientist
True, He Was No Geek Though
She Was Taken With His Kiss
It Was Under The Giant Telescope
Were She Heard The Calling Voice
It Came Screaming Though The Light Years
She Never Had A Choice

Pleiades Calling Her Home
Seven Sisters, She Hears Her Distant Sisters
Pleiades Calling Me Home
Seven Sisters, She Hears Her Seven Sisters

Pleiades Calling Her Home
Seven Sisters, She Hears Her Distant Sisters
Pleiades Calling Me Home
Seven Sisters, She Hears Her Seven Sisters

A Woman On A Mission
Quite Familiar With Quasars
Her Hearts Still In The Kitchen
But Her Soul Is In The Stars
Her Engine Fuel With Logic
And Navigation Expertise
It's A Very Distant Puzzle
She Gonna To Get Her Piece

Desdemonas Building A Rocket Ship
Desdemonas Going Away
Desdemonas Building A Rocket Ship
Blasting Off Today
She Got A Passion For Cookies
A Crew Full Of Rookies
It's Going To Be A Hell Of A Blow
Desdemonas Building A Rocket Ship
I've Just Got To Go

Yea, Oh Yea
Seven Sisters, She Hears Her Distant Sisters
Yea, Ooooowwww!
Pleiades Calling Her Home
Seven Sisters, She Hears Her Seven Sisters
Pleiades Calling Me Home
Seven Sisters, She Hears Her Seven Sisters

Pleiades Calling Her Home
Seven Sisters, She Hears Her Distant Sisters
Pleiades Calling Me Home

. . .


By: Jimmy Buffett

I'd Like To Be A Jelly Fish
Cause Jelly Fish Don't Pay Rent
They Don't Walk, They Don't Talk
With Some Euro-Trash Accents

They're Just Simple Protoplasm
Clear As Cellophane
They Ride The Winds Of Fortune
Life Without A Brain

In One Ear And Out The Other
Don't You Get Criss-Crossed
I Recommend You Try A Little...
Mental Floss

It's The Small Small Problems
That Keep Me So Upset

And Send Me Seeking Shelter
Beneath My Mosquito Net
I Stay There For Hours
Protected From The Nights
All Those Insects And Vipers
Other Things That Bite

In One Ear And Out The Other
Don't You Get Criss-Crossed
I Recommend You Try A Little...
Mental Floss

I'd Like To Be A Jelly Fish
Because Jelly Fish Don't Pay Rent
They Don't Walk, They Don't Talk
With Some Euro-Trash Accent

There Just Simple Protoplasm
Clear As Cellophane
They Ride The Winds Of Fortune
Life Without A Brain

It's In One Ear And Out The Other
Don't You Get Criss-Crossed
I Recommend You Try A Little...
Mental Floss

It's In One Ear And Out The Other
Don't You Get Criss-Crossed
I Recommend You Try A Little...
Mental Floss

Yea, Don't Forget To Floss Every Day!


. . .


By: Jimmy Buffett

I'm a cultural infidel
Painting in the dark
I'm a cultural infidel
Singin' in the park
Socrates, hypotheses, the music of Mozart
I'm a cultural infidel
Comin' from the heart

Free thinkin', hood-winkin', unblinkin' mon
Start trouble, burst bubbles, join my caravahn
Someone's got to talk about accountability
Someone's got to raise some hell
I guess it could be me

I'm a cultural infidel
Tryin' to draw a crowd
I'm a cultural infidel
Singin' right out loud
Philosophy is not for me, laughin' is my game
I'm a cultural infidel
Slap me with the blame

Loose cannon, Armageddon, preacher's at the door
Spittin' poison at the boys'n' girls on the dance floor
I hear them in the Congress
I see them on TV
I hope the Inquisition remains a memory

... horn/pan instrumental ...

Al diablo Picasso, Al diablo Manet
Al diablo Fontainebleu, Al diablo Hemingway
O diab Dr. Thompson, O diab San Joan
O diab Village People, O diab Rolling Stone

(hoo hoo)
Someone's got to talk about accountability
Someone's got to raise some hell
It might as well be me

I'm a cultural infidel
'Believe in common sense
I'm a cultural infidel
Love the present tense
But we have to keep a lookout for those mean old backed up farts
I'm a cultural infidel
Comin' from the heart

My heart, my heart, my heart
Mon coeur...
Will I see you in heaven?
Will I see you in hell?
Will I see you in Rio
Only time will...
Will I see you in heaven?
Will I see you in hell?
Will I see you tomorrow?

. . .


By: Jimmy Buffett

I've been a stand-in, a stunt man
I've takin' some falls
Troubles... I've had my share
But one has to learn how to run before walkin'
'Round breathin' that million air

Take it from me cuz I found
If you leave it then somebody else is bound
To find that treasure, that moment of pleasure
When yours, it could have been

Some people never find it
Some... only pretend, but me:
I just want to live happily ever after every now and then

I've been in vans and in bands
On and through stages
One thing I can conclude
One has to learn havin' fun is just smilin' through
Those Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes
Take it from me cuz I've found
If you leave it then somebody else is bound
To find that treasure, that moment of pleasure
When yours, it could have been

Some people never find it
Some... only pretend, but me:
I just want to live happily ever after every now and then

... PM guitar break ...

Some people never find it
Some... only pretend, but me, hell:
I just want to live happily ever after every now and then

Every now and then (OOOOoooo...)
(Every now and then) (OOOOoooo...)
(Happily ever after every now and then) (OOOOoooo...)
(Every now and then) (OOOOoooo...)

. . .


By: Jimmy Buffett

The skies over Cuba turned pink with the light
And the waterfront ritual began to ignite
All the ships in the harbor were warmed by the sun
Twenty-fifth of November, 1921

On the old Chicamauga the Signal Jacks flew
And the message they spelled out caused a great bally hoo
Every ship in Havana then hoisted away
All the pennants were 'a flyin' on my dad's first birthday

Enduring echoes call out from his past
Time ain't for savin' no time's not for that
Chasing false echoes like a lost legionnaire
He waltzes on memories while he fades like a flare

Now his storybook childhood was not make believe
On the decks of a tall ship he was taught to achieve
Witnessed storms and starvation natural wonders and force
Oh the life of a sailor steers a wanderin' course

Enduring echoes call out from his past
Time ain't for savin' no time's not for that
Chasing false echoes like a lost legionnaire
He waltzes on memories while he fades like a flare

Well now life throws us curve balls we never can reach
He gave up the ocean but he lived by the beach
Where he raised up his family taught us all to survive
Then the wind went away in 1995

[whistle/violin break]

Now the old Chicamauga has slipped by the ways
She lies on the bottom of old Mobile Bay
Where the ghosts of his father and his brother are near
They protect him and tell him there's nothin' to fear
Cause it's family tradition we take to the sea
And it's a time in the future for Cameron and me

Enduring echoes call out from his past
Time ain't for saving no time's not for that
Chasing false echoes like a lost legionnaire
He waltzes on memories while he fades like a flare

The skies over Cuba were warmed by the sun

. . .



I could be a rambler from the Seven Dials
I don't pay taxes 'cause I never file
I don't do bid'ness that don't make me smile
I love my aeroplane 'cause she's got style

I'm a treetop flyer
Treetop flyer

I fly any cargo that you can pay to run
The bush league pilots, they just can't get the job done
You've got to fly down the canyon, don't never see the sun
There's no such thing as an easy run

I'm a treetop flyer
Treetop flyer

I fly low, I'm in high demand
Go 15 feet over the Rio Grande
I blow the mesquite right up off the sand
I'm seldom seen, 'specially when I land

I'm a treetop flyer
Born survivor

Now people been askin' me where'd you learn to fly that way
Was over in Vietnam, chasin' the NVA
The government taught me, and they taught me right
Stay down below the treeline and you'll be alright

I'm a treetop flyer
Born survivor

So I'm comin' home, I'm runnin' low and fast
Promised my woman this is gonna be my last
I get the ship down, I tie her fast
And then some old boy wakes up, and he says, "Hey son,
wanna make some fast cash?"

I'm a treetop flyer

Well there's things I am
And there's things I am not
Yes I'm a smuggler and I could get shot
I ain't gonna die, I ain't going to get caught
You see I'm a flying fool, and this aeroplane is, whoo, hot

I'm a treetop flyer
Born survivor

. . .


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