Down to the Banana Republic

Down to the tropical sun

Go the expatriated Americans

Hoping to find some fun



Some of them go for the sailn'

Called by the lure of the sea

Trying to find what is ailing

From living in the land of the free



Some of them are running from lovers

Leaving no forward address

Some of them are running tons of ganga

Some are running from the IRS



And late at night you will find them

In the cheap hotels & bars

Hustling the senoritas while they dance beneath the stars



Spending those renegade pesos

On a bottle of rum & a lime

Singing, give me some words I can dance to

Or a melody that rhymes



First you learn the native customs

Soon a word of Spanish or two

But you know that you cannot trust them

Cause they know they can't trust you



Expatriated Americans feeling so all alone

Telling themselves the same lies

That they told themselves back home

Down to the Banana Republic things aren't as warm as they seem

When none of the natives are buying any second hand American dreams