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In the cool shade of the banana tree |
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On the rugged trail toward the balcony |
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A child of the twentieth century |
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A dried up Goliath and a weasel named Fee |
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Far away in another place |
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A fading beauty named Milly Grace |
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A gospel singer with pox on her face |
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And a bamboo cane to help her keep the pace |
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Fee was a Buddhist prodigy |
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Long past the age of maturity |
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Someday he knew it would set him free |
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Like it did for Floyd the chimpanzee |
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Oh, Fee, you're trying to live a life |
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That's completely free. |
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You're racing with the wind |
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Phish |
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You're flirting with death |
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So have a cup of coffee |
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And catch your breath |
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Fee first met Milly in a bar in Peru |
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His heart was jumping like a kangaroo |
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Like a beast in a cage in an old Dutch zoo |
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It was hopping and thumping in wooden shoes |
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But Floyd was jealous and alone |
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He wanted Milly for his own |
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A desperate craving in his bones |
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"Their love", he said, "I will not condone." |
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Then one day on a ship to Quebec |
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Floyd found Milly on a lover's trek |
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He picked up a bottle and broke off the neck |
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It sliced through the air, and Fee hit the deck |
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Oh, Fee, you're trying to live a life |
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That's completely free |
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Until you're dead |
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But you just got a bottle |
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Upside your head |
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Milly turned and began to scream at Floyd |
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said "You think you're pretty mean" |
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And though she was as thin as a small string bean |
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She slammed him in the face with a nectarine |
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Floyd fell back over the edge of the ship |
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Till he hung from the rail by his fingertip |
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said, "Floyd I'll make you lose your grip |
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With this tiny piece of paper I can make you slip" |
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So Milly took that paper and did the deed |
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Floyd hit the water with astonishing speed |
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And as the sharks circled and began to feed |
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Milly knew her weasel was finally free |
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Oh, Fee, you're trying to live a life |
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That's completely free |
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Floyd is dead; he's nothing but a ripple |
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Cause Milly took that paper |
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And sliced him on the nipple |
