Welcome to this little club on the out skirts of honolulu. it's a little local dive with a grass thatched roof and tiki torches guarding the bamboo door. "come on in" says your host for the evening as she seats you at a table under old 64' hobie surfboard hanging from the open rafters. hub caps, green aloha license plates and 25 years of dust line the wall behind us. "got any live music?" we ask. she points to the stage. "put a quarter in the box, bruddah and press b16." lurking in the shadows we see the beast of non conformity, chains around his neck, duck tape across his lips waiting for his turn in the spot light.

Stuck in the middle, middle of the ocean,
On an island surrounded by coconut rum.
Stranded in a prison, with only one window
A little club on the outskirts of tedium.

The scene it was, unbelievable,
Velvet paintings hung from my cell.
They had the likeness of don ho and elvis,
The jukebox sang about some la hotel.
And that’s why, i’m singing you this song.
And that’s why, the band plays along.
Stuck in the middle of the ocean.

I watched the flowers, as they slowly wilted,
Under the rays of a jamaican sun.
Everything seems to just stay the same,
Nothing changes,no one chooses to run.
And that’s why, i’m singing you this song.
And that’s why, the band plays along.
Stuck in the middle of the ocean.

So here i am, stuck in the middle,
And i’ve got music going around in my head.
I’ve got so many things i need to tell you,
It’s all this stuff that’s never been said.

Read between the lines.
We shall lay the seeds.
Who will follow their dream,
Or will you still be,
Stuck in the middle of the ocean.