Buddy, we got major blues
Another suitcase in your hand
I hope you brought your walking shoes
'Cause it's quite a-ways from what I understand

So, rack 'em up, big blonde
I think I could have been your man
We watch the surfers as they whip on the strand
Ah, Daytona sand

Long hair, slow eyes, I like your style
We both ain't got a job
I haven't seen my band in a while
At least nothing seems to last that long

So hit the road, big blonde
Take me home to Mississippi
It's not that I don't care, it's just hard to make a plan
But ah, Daytona sand

I'm not mad, for what it's worth
You always take the dare, that's what I learned
I'm getting tired of this earth
But they say some stones are better left unturned

So what you say, big blonde?
Is that another whispered plan?
I've been around long enough to know you can't trust a man
But ah, Daytona sand

M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P-P-I
M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P-P-I
M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P-P-I
M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P-P-I