 Song Lyrics -> Banana Wind
Only Time Will Tell by Jimmy Buffett, Roger Guth, Russ Kunkel, Peter Mayer, and Jim Mayer  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 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 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 Only time will tell Jamaica Mistaica by Jimmy Buffett, Roger Guth, Russ Kunkel, Peter Mayer, and Jim Mayer 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 alibis 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, Promise not to shoot you out of the sky School Boy Heart by Jimmy Buffett and 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 long board 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, Added Ice, 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 That glide up my longboard and hang off the nose Banana Wind by by Jimmy Buffett, Roger Guth, Russ Kunkel, Peter Mayer, and Jim Mayer Instrumental Holiday by Jimmy Buffett, Bill Eaton, Ralph MacDonald, William Stalter
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 aggression what’s the remedy? We’re not talking rocket science the answer to your question’s very plain to see 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 blasé 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 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 need a holiday take a holiday find a place to find yourself take your life down off that shelf quit acting so blasé Take a holiday you need a holiday grab a pack and hit the trail take a sail and wind up in some moonlight bay Bob Roberts Society Band by Jimmy Buffett and Amy Lee 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 existence 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 Overkill by Jimmy Buffett, Roger Guth, Russ Kunkel, Peter Mayer, and Jim Mayer
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 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 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 I got no corporate gig I got no guru I don’t own ocean front in Honolulu 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 You’ll be pushin’ up the daisies in some old boneyard Desdemona’s Building A Rocket Ship by Jimmy Buffett, Roger Guth, Russ Kunkel, Peter Mayer, and Jim Mayer 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 Mental Floss by Jimmy Buffett, Roger Guth, Russ Kunkel, Peter Mayer, and Jim Mayer 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! Mental! Cultural Infidel by Jimmy Buffett, Roger Guth, Russ Kunkel, Peter Mayer, and Jim Mayer 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 caravan 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 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 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? Only time will tell Happily Ever After (Now And Then) by Jimmy Buffett and Dave Loggins 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 Some people never find it Some only pretend, but me, hell I just want to live happily ever after every now and then False Echos (Havana 1921) 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 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 Twenty-fifth of November 1921 Treetop Flyer by Stephen Stills 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 seldon 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 Workin’ alone
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