Buddy, we got major blues
Another suitcase in your hand
I hope you brought your walking shoes
'Cause it's quite away from what I understand
So rack 'em up, big blond
I think I could have been your man
We watch the sun first as they wail on the strand
Ah, Daytona sand
Long hairs, low eyes, I like your style
We both ain't got a job
I haven't seen my band in a while
At least nothing seems to last that long
So hit the road, big blond
Take me home to Mississippi
It's not that I don't care
It's just hard to make a plan
But, ah
Daytona sand
I'm a man for what it's worth
You always take the dare, that's what I learned
I'm getting tired of this earth
But they say some stones are better left unturned
So what you say, big blond?
Is that another whisper player?
I've been around long enough to know you can't trust a man
But, ah
Daytona sand
M-i-s-s-i-s-s-i-p-p-i
M-i-s-s-i-s-s-i-p-p-i
M-i-s-s-i-s-s-i-p-p-i
M-i-s-s-i-s-s-i-p-p-i
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
