Standing in the foyer of the Grand Hotel,
|
Suitcase in his hand looking for a bill,
|
There's a hurricane coming and everyone's trying to get away;
|
|
Time of the season, time of the year,
|
The weather reporter from Miami is clear,
|
"Find a save place to hide," there's no place here;
|
|
And then the lights go down,
|
In that Caribbean town,
|
And the fishing boats that go out from the coast,
|
Are tied up and dry, yeah yeah yeah,
|
|
Suddenly there's a movement to the telephone,
|
But nobody's calling home tonight,
|
They've taken out the very last flight,
|
And they close down the borderline,
|
|
'Cos there ain't nowhere to hide,
|
Waiting for the hurricane,
|
There is nowhere here to hide,
|
Waiting for the hurricane,
|
Oh there is nowhere you can hide,
|
Waiting for the hurricane, no no no no...
|
|
Staring out the window of the Grand Hotel,
|
The sea was roaring, I remember well,
|
And then the honeymoon bride began to cry,
|
|
But as the band played on,
|
Some old love song,
|
Well he held her hand,
|
Gave her to understand,
|
It'll be alright, yeah yeah yeah,
|
|
Suddenly there's a movement to the radio,
|
But nobody's getting home tonight,
|
They've taken out the very last flight,
|
And they closed down the borderline,
|
|
'Cos there ain't nowhere to hide,
|
Waiting for the hurricane,
|
There is nowhere here to hide,
|
Waiting for the hurricane,
|
Oh there is nowhere you can hide,
|
Waiting for the hurricane,
|
Oh there is nowhere you can hide,
|
Waiting for the hurricane,
|
Oh oh, waiting for the hurricane,
|
Oh oh, waiting for the hurricane,
|
No no no no...
|
|
-----------------
|
Waiting For The Hurricane
|
| Chris De Burgh |
