Monte Carlo

Here comes the bus
Here it goes

And the three lonely things poking up from the water
Are her nipples and her nose as she floats on her back
And the sand is deserted, except for me standing
I stand as the landmark to keep her on track
So the ocean won't pull her away

I'm guarding our bags since I really can't swim
And I don't want to learn, though she does try to teach
But thieves who scope tourists at night in the city
In daytime all probably hang at this beach
You never know in Monte Carlo

From noon until evening her skin changes color
From paler than mine to a sun-punished red
So I expect havoc, tonight around bedtime
She'll want me to blow on her blisters in bed
That's the sun in Monte Carlo

The keeper of the lighthouse is sleeping
So we creep upstairs to play with his beam
Making ships stray from their courses intended
By highlighting rocks and the shallows between them
And the smashing of hulls in the night seemed to have
No consequence at all, like the action in dreams
In the morning gulls pick over jetsam and junk
Over flotsam but feeling no guilt for their screams
While we spend three-quarters of our time apologizing
For the quarter of the time that we're thoughtless
And thoughtless and mean
Just for fun in Monte Carlo

Just for fun in Monte Carlo
We go to the cliffs where the men cruise each other
Their cars come and go like the change of the tide
Where Grace Kelly swam her last swim on the planet
When Grace Kelly's roadster flipped over the side of the guardrail

One guy looked so nervous, and standing alone
My friend saw him shaking and started to laugh
I said, "Wouldn't you be nervous if you knew in ten minutes
You'd have the surf at your feet and some stranger up your back
Giving you his best Monte Carlo?"
A ten-minute, double-ringed halo...

You know, the most breathtaking sight I've seen in awhile
Was the sight of French men fucking under the stars
We watched them dancing like mermen on fire
Till cops came and chased them away in their cars

We watched them run in Monte Carlo
We watched them and we laid low

And my girl is as red as a rare hothouse flower
Her skin is so burned that she's giving off heat
And my girl is as tired as nobody's business
But sea-air makes sleeping incredibly sweet
Two more nights in Monte Carlo
And her burn will be a tan
She can't sleep, she just said so
So I turn up the fan