Dave Keats songs are © copyright protected.
Winter's always cold in Buffalo.
I'm sick and tired of the war
I've been subpoenaed for my the last stand
Against my life who's got no love for me any more
The house we mortgaged in the seventies
The bank they took it right away
When I was invalided from the war
Don' matter I've no-one to share it with anyway.
I'm headed South across the border
To Belize or Mexico
The land of abara cadabara
Where the cold wind never blows.
Live on tangerines and bagels
Go swimming 'til my skin turns brown
Live in a tin shack on the mountainside
Where nobody knows my name.
Our only kid's in California
He's part of some religious sect
That makes him work from dawn 'til sundown,
Week in week out
And three square meals a day is all he ever gets
There's a mall on Ninety-fourth Street
Where years ago I learnt my trade
In a factory making clay pots
Don' matter there's no call for real things anymore these days.
I'm headed South across the border
To Belize or Mexico
The land of abara cadabara
Where the cold wind never blows
Live on tangerines and bagels
Go swimming 'til my skin turns brown
Live in a tin shack on the mountainside
Where nobody knows my name.
The motor cycle gangs on President
Are getting underneath my skin
We know that one day soon they'll grow up to be men
Bed when they do there'll be some more to take the place of them
I've got a friend in Tijuana
Just sold up everything he had
Now each month when he writes a card to me
It's the closest that he gets to turning back.
I'm headed South across the border
To Belize or Mexico
The land of abara cadabara
Where the cold wind never blows
Live on tangerines and bagels
Go swimming 'til my skin turns brown
Live in a tin shack on the mountainside
Where nobody knows my name.