Dollar fifty drafts, a jukebox full of cash
Watch the fish jump from the sea
Dollar fifty spent, joy for sale or rent
The feeling never lied, at least it never lied to me
Shot and a beer, getting loud in here
Gulls fight for trash on the beach
Proposition and propose, decompress and decompose
Maybe paradise just ain't the place for me
Happy hour’s done, doubts are two for one
Watch it all wash to the sea
Now the final drafts all end up in the trash
A copy of a copy of a sketch and I guess
(In the wind is where we stay, where we’ve been is now washing away)
We all fear the comedown
But you can’t fall if you don’t leave ground
Older versions follow you around
Maybe paradise just ain’t the place to be found