|
We all came out to Montreux,
On the Lake Geneva shoreline.
To make records with a mobile,
We didn't have much time.
Frank Zappa and the Mothers,
Were at the best place around.
But some stupid with a flare gun,
Burned the place to the ground.
Smoke on the water, fire in the sky.
They burned down the gambling house.
It died with an awful sound.
Funky Claude was running in and out,
Pulling kids out the ground.
When it all was over,
We had to find another place.
But, Swiss time was running out.
It seemed that we would lose the race.
Smoke on the water, fire in the sky
We ended up at the Grand Hotel.
It was empty, cold and bare.
But, with the Rolling Stones truck thing just outside,
Making our music there.
With a few red lights and a few old beds,
We make a new place to sweat.
No matter what we get out of this,
I know we'll never forget.
Smoke on the water, fire in the sky.
|