Originally Posted by
DrJekyll MrHyde
I blew out my flip flop
Stepped on a pop top
Cut my heel, had to cruise on back home
But there's booze in the blender
And soon it will render
That frozen concoction that helps me hang on
Wastin' away again in Margaritaville
Searchin' for my lost shaker of salt
Some people claim that there's a woman to blame
But I know, it's my own damn fault
I've heard that song before too, but it's more a state of mind.
Don't forget the lost verse, written for those pilots in white New Balance, with phone holsters on Caribbean layovers:
Old men in tank tops, cruising the gift shops.
Checking out the chiquitas down by the shore.
They dream about weight loss, wish they could be their own boss.
Those three day vacations become such a bore.