Margaritaville 9/10/09

I have been so swamped with my real life job that I have had a hard time actually finding time to sit down and write. I wish that I had the time to do this but both occupations are consuming all of my time. So tonight after a long day I have decided to live up to my word and continue the blog with a song so easy and about a place I wish I was. Somewhere past the port of indecision, where lattitude doesn't matter.

Nibblin’ on sponge cakewatchin’ the sun bakeAll of these parrotheads covered with oil Strummin’ my six string on my front porch swingSmell those shrimp They’re beginnin’ to boil (bubble bubble bubble)Wasted away again in Margaritaville Searchin’ for my lost shaker of salt Some people claim that there’s a woman to blame And I know, this is usally some woman’s faultDon’t know the reason Stayed here all seasonWith nothing to show but this brand new tatooBut it’s a real beauty Oh those Atlanta cuties, well over the yearsI have met me a fewWasted away again in Margaritaville Searchin’ for my lost shaker of saltSome people claim that there’s a woman to blame Now you really think, I’m gonna admit this is my fault?I blew out my flip flop Stepped on a pop topI broke my leg twice, had to limp on back homeBut there’s booze in the blender And soon it will render That frozen concoction that helps me hang onWasted away again in Margaritaville Searchin’ for my lost shaker of saltSome people claim that there’s a woman to blameBut I know, it’s my own damn faultYes, and some people claim that there’s a woman to blame, And I know it’s my own damn fault.

I would love to be on a street in Key West, watching tourists walk up and down the street, while sitting in any number of establishments, drinking a mucho grande margarita. With nothing to show for all my hard work except a headache that has lasted three weeks, lack of sleep where a frozen concoction would be great right about now possibly inspiring me to follow the true course of that map.

Even as a trubador, the man is searching for his treasure, albeit a lost shaker of salt. Yes I know it's my own damn fault but I know somewhere out there there is a woman to blame. I like that idea better.

It has only been three weeks since summer ended for me and already I feel the shrimp boiling and know that I blew out a flip flop. I need tequila and a great big glass to bring me back to that lovely state of mind.