Nibbling on sponge cake, watching the sun bake,
all of those tourists covered with oil,
strumming my six string, on my front porch swing,
smell those shrimp, they're beginning to boil.
wasting away again in margaritaville,
searching for my lost shaker of salt,
some people claim that there's a woman to blame,
but i know it's nobody's fault.
Don't know the reason that i stayed here all season,
with nothing to show but this brand new tattoo,
but it's a real beauty, a mexican cutie,
how it got here i haven't a clue.
Blew out my flipflop, stepped on a poptop
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.
Yes, some people claim that there's a woman to blame,
and i know it's my own damn fault.