© 1996 by Jim Morris
He was three years out of college,
A d***ed good engineer.
Worked hard all day, then he partied away.
Things were happy on the old frontier.
Had a plan for taking life easy,
Avoiding the kids and a wife.
He drove all the women crazy.
These were the three best years of his life.
Then the corporate boys they called him
And said we've got a job to do.
Got this problem up in North Dakota
And we need a man just like you.
But the sound of the plains and the freezing rain
Hit him like a fatal disease.
Put a beer to his mouth, took 95-South
And he headed for the Keys.
CHORUS:
And it's just the sweetest life he's ever tasted,
A little laid back and key wasted.
He's got his toes in the sand, he's a tropical man
He's happy as hell and it shows.
He's just living in a drunken stupor,
Making some money on that old square grouper.
Never had any doubt and if it doesn't work out,
Well, that's just the way it goes.
Got a job making margaritas
In a little bar by the pier,
Till he finally made some connections
With some big-time buccaneers.
Now he spends some time in Cartagena
Making plans for the haul.
Might be dealing with b**s, might be dangerous to some
But the old boy is having a ball.
REPEAT CHORUS
Now his friends all worry about him;
They think he's throwing his future away.
It's kind of hard being upwardly mobile
When you're laying in the sun all day.
So they call him up to convince him
And tell him what it's all about.
But on the phone he can never stop laughing,
He's got the whole d***ed thing figured out.
REPEAT CHORUS
He was three years out of college,
A d***ed good engineer.
Worked hard all day, then he partied away.
Things were happy on the old frontier.
Had a plan for taking life easy,
Avoiding the kids and a wife.
He drove all the women crazy.
These were the three best years of his life.
Then the corporate boys they called him
And said we've got a job to do.
Got this problem up in North Dakota
And we need a man just like you.
But the sound of the plains and the freezing rain
Hit him like a fatal disease.
Put a beer to his mouth, took 95-South
And he headed for the Keys.
CHORUS:
And it's just the sweetest life he's ever tasted,
A little laid back and key wasted.
He's got his toes in the sand, he's a tropical man
He's happy as hell and it shows.
He's just living in a drunken stupor,
Making some money on that old square grouper.
Never had any doubt and if it doesn't work out,
Well, that's just the way it goes.
Got a job making margaritas
In a little bar by the pier,
Till he finally made some connections
With some big-time buccaneers.
Now he spends some time in Cartagena
Making plans for the haul.
Might be dealing with b**s, might be dangerous to some
But the old boy is having a ball.
REPEAT CHORUS
Now his friends all worry about him;
They think he's throwing his future away.
It's kind of hard being upwardly mobile
When you're laying in the sun all day.
So they call him up to convince him
And tell him what it's all about.
But on the phone he can never stop laughing,
He's got the whole d***ed thing figured out.
REPEAT CHORUS