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standing in the foyer of the grand hotel, |
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suitcase in his hand looking for a bill, |
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there's a hurricane coming and everyone's trying to get away; |
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time of the season, time of the year, |
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the weather reporter from miami is clear, |
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"find a save place to hide," there's no place here; |
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and then the lights go down, |
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in that caribbean town, |
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and the fishing boats that go out from the coast, |
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are tied up and dry, yeah yeah yeah, |
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suddenly there's a movement to the telephone, |
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but nobody's calling home tonight, |
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they've taken out the very last flight, |
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and they close down the borderline, |
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'cos there ain't nowhere to hide, |
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waiting for the hurricane, |
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there is nowhere here to hide, |
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waiting for the hurricane, |
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oh there is nowhere you can hide, |
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waiting for the hurricane, no no no no... |
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staring out the window of the grand hotel, |
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the sea was roaring, i remember well, |
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and then the honeymoon bride began to cry, |
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but as the band played on, |
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some old love song, |
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well he held her hand, |
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gave her to understand, |
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it'll be alright, yeah yeah yeah, |
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suddenly there's a movement to the radio, |
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but nobody's getting home tonight, |
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they've taken out the very last flight, |
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and they closed down the borderline, |
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'cos there ain't nowhere to hide, |
|
waiting for the hurricane, |
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there is nowhere here to hide, |
|
waiting for the hurricane, |
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oh there is nowhere you can hide, |
|
waiting for the hurricane, |
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oh there is nowhere you can hide, |
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waiting for the hurricane, |
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oh oh, waiting for the hurricane, |
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oh oh, waiting for the hurricane, |
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no no no no... |
