He went to Paris looking for answers to questions that bothered him so. He was impressive, young and agressive, saving the world on his own. The warm summer breezes, the French wines and cheeses, put his ambitions at bay. The summers and winters scattered like splinters and four or five years slipped away.
He went to England to play the piano and married an actress named Kim. THey had a fine life, she was a good wife and bore him a young son named Jim. All of the answers and all of the questions locked in his attic one day, because he liked the quiet, clean country living and twenty more years slipped away.
Well, the war took his baby, the bombs killed his lady and left him with only one eye. His body was battered, his whole world was shattered and all he could do was just cry. While the tears were falling he was recalling answers he never found. So he hopped on a freighter, skidded the ocean and left England without a sound.
Now he lives in the islands, fishes the pylons and drinks his green label each day. Writing his memoirs, losing his hearing, but he doesn't care what most people say. Through eighty-six years of perpetual motion, if he likes you he'll smile and he'll say, "Some of it's magic, some of it's tragic, but I had a good life all the way."
He went to Paris looking for answers to questions that bothered him so.
-Jimmy Buffett