Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Migration , by - Jimmy Buffett. Song from the album A-1-A, in the genre ПопRelease date: 31.12.1973
Record label: Universal Music
Song language: English
Migration |
| Whoa, lookin' back at my background |
| Tryin' to figure out how I ever got here |
| Some things are still a mystery to me |
| While others are much too clear |
| I’m just livin' in the sunshine |
| Stay contented most of the time |
| Yeah listenin' to Murphy, Walker, and Willis |
| Sing me their Texas rhymes |
| Most of the people who retire in Florida |
| Are wrinkled and they lean on a crutch |
| And mobile homes are smotherin' my Keys |
| I hate those bastards so much |
| I wish a summer squall would blow them all |
| The way up to fantasy land |
| Yeah they’re ugly and square, they don’t belong here |
| They looked a lot better as beer cans |
| Yeah, and that’s why it’s still a mystery to me |
| Why some people live like they do |
| So many nice things happenin' out there |
| They never even seen the clues |
| Whoa but we’re doin' fine, we can travel and rhyme |
| I know we been doin' our part |
| Got a Caribbean soul I can barely control |
| And some Texas hidden here in my heart |
| Well now I might have joined the Merchant Marine |
| If I hadn’t learned how to sing |
| And on top of all that I got married too early |
| 'Cost me much more than a ring |
| But now those crazy days are over |
| Just gotta learn from the wrong things you done |
| I came off the rebound, started lookin' around |
| Figured out it’s time to have a little fun |
| Yeah, and that’s why it’s still a mystery to me |
| Why some people live like they do |
| So many nice things happenin' out there |
| They never even seen the clues |
| Whoa but we’re doin' fine, we can travel and rhyme |
| I know we been doin' our part |
| Got a Caribbean soul I can barely control |
| And some Texas hidden here in my heart |
| Well now if I ever live to be an old man |
| I’m gonna sail down to Martinique |
| I’m gonna buy me a sweat-stained Bogart suit |
| And an African parakeet |
| And then I’ll sit him on my shoulder |
| And open up my trusty old mind |
| I gonna teach him how to cuss, teach him how to fuss |
| And pull the cork out of a bottle of wine |
| Yeah, and that’s why it’s still a mystery to me |
| Why some people live like they do |
| So many nice things happenin' out there |
| They never even seen the clues |
| Yeah but we’re doin' fine, we can travel and rhyme |
| I know we been doin' our part |
| Got a Caribbean soul I can barely control |
| And some Texas hidden here in my heart |
| Yeah, got a Caribbean soul I can barely control |
| And some Texas hidden here in my heart |