The Santa Monica Pier Songtext
von Christine Lavin
The Santa Monica Pier Songtext
I′ve got beach glass and tokens in my pocket,
Sizing up each other's worth.
Neither one′ll do me any good here,
I throw them into the surf.
The palm trees all look a little bit like Tina Turner looks,
From behind.
The boys on their skateboards have strategically tousled hair,
The Bon Jovi kind.
I am a stranger here,
Strollin' down the Santa Monica Pier.
Picnic baskets and fishing gear,
Ice cream cones,
And souvenirs.
Oh there's a fine warm western breeze
A-stirrin′ up the Tina Turner trees.
I have dreamed of days like these
All of my life.
Roller skaters with their headphones on,
They sway to the private beat.
I drop into the Crown and Anchor,
Time to eat, time to eat.
No matter what it is I order,
I know there′s an avocado hidden on this plate.
I don't like them, but I still eat them.
I′m not tempting fate.
I am a stranger here,
Strollin' down the Santa Monica Pier.
Picnic baskets and fishing gear,
Ice cream cones, souvenirs, souvenirs.
Oh there′s a fine warm western breeze
A-stirring up the Tina Turner trees.
I have dreamed of days like these
All of my life.
Back home, I hear the stock market's boomin′, boomin'.
The bears and the bulls say they're taking it all in stride.
Out here, they′re hot air balloonin′.
Yeah, they go zoomin'
Up into the sky-ay-ay.
Yeah, I′m a stranger here,
Santa Monica Pier.
Fishing gear,
Souvenirs, get your souvenirs here.
Oh, feel that breeze,
Ah, shake you trees, shake it up.
Days like these.
Look at that beautiful Mexican boy,
Holding tight to his papa's hand.
"Mira, mira," he cries,
As he points to
The papaya juice stand.
Look at that old lady dozing off,
I wonder what she′s dreamin' of?
What could be better than this,
Except for maybe bein′ in love?
I am a stranger here,
Strollin' down the Santa Monica Pier.
Picnic baskets and fishing gear,
Ice cream cones,
Souvenirs, get your souvenirs here.
Oh, now feel that breeze.
C'mon and shake you trees, shake it up.
I have dreamed of days like these
All of my life.
Yeah, I have dreamed of days like these.
Oh, I have dreamed
Sizing up each other's worth.
Neither one′ll do me any good here,
I throw them into the surf.
The palm trees all look a little bit like Tina Turner looks,
From behind.
The boys on their skateboards have strategically tousled hair,
The Bon Jovi kind.
I am a stranger here,
Strollin' down the Santa Monica Pier.
Picnic baskets and fishing gear,
Ice cream cones,
And souvenirs.
Oh there's a fine warm western breeze
A-stirrin′ up the Tina Turner trees.
I have dreamed of days like these
All of my life.
Roller skaters with their headphones on,
They sway to the private beat.
I drop into the Crown and Anchor,
Time to eat, time to eat.
No matter what it is I order,
I know there′s an avocado hidden on this plate.
I don't like them, but I still eat them.
I′m not tempting fate.
I am a stranger here,
Strollin' down the Santa Monica Pier.
Picnic baskets and fishing gear,
Ice cream cones, souvenirs, souvenirs.
Oh there′s a fine warm western breeze
A-stirring up the Tina Turner trees.
I have dreamed of days like these
All of my life.
Back home, I hear the stock market's boomin′, boomin'.
The bears and the bulls say they're taking it all in stride.
Out here, they′re hot air balloonin′.
Yeah, they go zoomin'
Up into the sky-ay-ay.
Yeah, I′m a stranger here,
Santa Monica Pier.
Fishing gear,
Souvenirs, get your souvenirs here.
Oh, feel that breeze,
Ah, shake you trees, shake it up.
Days like these.
Look at that beautiful Mexican boy,
Holding tight to his papa's hand.
"Mira, mira," he cries,
As he points to
The papaya juice stand.
Look at that old lady dozing off,
I wonder what she′s dreamin' of?
What could be better than this,
Except for maybe bein′ in love?
I am a stranger here,
Strollin' down the Santa Monica Pier.
Picnic baskets and fishing gear,
Ice cream cones,
Souvenirs, get your souvenirs here.
Oh, now feel that breeze.
C'mon and shake you trees, shake it up.
I have dreamed of days like these
All of my life.
Yeah, I have dreamed of days like these.
Oh, I have dreamed
Writer(s): Christine Lavin Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com