In Majorca or San Tropez where the finest people go to play
Or better yet a dictatorship in Central America with a revolution in it
Two cities on an island one a port the other a resort
The kind of people there: everybody who's anybody anybody who is everybody's anybody are there

A small black boy in orange shorts
Carries water down with coconut clumps
The presidential candidate suns on the fold back chair
On the white beach front
His naked mistress breasts pressed face down on the phone
Another boy spreads lotion on her butt's bronzed glow tone

Some synthesized salsa speaks through the cabana columns
Through the palm trees and deep inside is Dan the hotel pianist
Down for the winter to get a tan and improve his Spanish

And upstairs the honeymood Marxists cocoon in their room all day long
At night they go to the other town to see the movies
They're the only white people around
When they return, we, and the others, note what they had done

And the lovely lady who's just come down is Lola, my dear wife
Tomorrow she's scheduled her first polo lesson at 4:45

"I miss the occupation. The classy gangster is a Hollywood creation and the Eiffel Tower is the last great work of the Age of Iron"

To see the world in grains of sand and heaven in the wildest flowers
With party girls at your command all lying down for golden showers

Last week they burned down the most remote resort town
The militia has started swaggering
My daughter was caught daggering with the locals
So we locked her in her room as she requested
And we talked with the guests around the card table about scuba, France, Hungarians, and the presidential candidate's stances
and the Irish girls answered:

"If you walk on stilts you still walk on your feet. If you sit on the highest throne you still sit on your own ass"

So fast the ship has come to take the tall people out
You know there's never been a tall dictator before
The tall melancholic freaks speak slowly and endure
The short ones' delusions of grandeur

And I console my poor wife Lola
Who will miss her polo lesson as we run for our lives,

"Close ups, cowboys, and classy gangsters are Hollywood creations. Aristocrats have no nation"

as I always say, (yeah yeah huh):

"Close ups, cowboys, and classy gangsters are Hollywood creations. Aristocrats have no nation. I miss the occupation. I miss the occupation!"

To see the world in grains of sand and heaven in the wildest flowers
With party girls at your command all lying down for golden showers

The sun descends, the fires and gunshots reach the shore
But we've pushed away we've pushed away we've pushed it all away...

And the Irish girls spit and say:

"A star is something you fall in love with. A star is something you fall in love with. A star is something you fall in love with. A star is something you fall in love with...."