Smith Turn off the TV Turn off the crap Kick off your high heels Climb up in my lap And I'll play music A song from me to you Simple six string music A ballad or the blues No interruptions from the telephone Don't need call waiting Just you and me alone And my six string music A song from me to you Simple six string music A ballad or the blues Oh I remember that night in Africa My daughter and my little guitar Straddling the equator The king of Zanzibar Those shy black hidden faces They didn't know me from Adam's cat But the words and the singing And the people in a ring And the whole night went like that Some folks like icing, some folks like cake Some swim in the ocean, some paddle in a lake You can get into Beethoven, you can groove on Jimmy Reed But keep it simple stupid All we really need Is six string music A song from me to you Simple six string music A ballad or the blues Six string music Ain't no symphony It's just six string music So elementary Love in the Library Love in the Library Love In The Library Jimmy Buffett, Mac McAnally On the corner of Government and Bay Avenue The old doomsday fanatic wore a crown of kudzu Sirens where wailing in the gulf coastal heat And it seemed like the whole world was in forced retreat I paid no attention, revolved through the door Passed the newspaper rack on the worn marble floor Near civil war history my heart skipped a beat She was standing on fiction stretched high on bare feet Chorus Love in the library, quiet and cool Love in the library, there are no rules Surrounded by stories surreal and sublime I fell in love in the library once upon a time I was the pirate and she was the queen Sir Francis and Elizabeth the best there's ever been Then she strolled past my table and stopped at the stairs Then sent me a smile as she reached for Flaubert Chorus She gathered her books, walked while she read Words never spoken but so much was said You can read all you want into this rendezvous But it's safer than most things that lovers can do Well stories have endings and fantasies fade The guard by the door starts drawing the shade So write your own ending and hope they come true For the lovers and strangers on Bay Avenue Chorus Quietly Making Noise Quietly Making Noise Quietly Making Noise Jimmy Buffett, Michael Tschudin Oscar Wilde died in bed Several floors above my head Living well beyond his means In that crazy Paris scene Rain falls down in sheets so clear No one ever calls me here Traveling by my self these days I'm into jazz and felt berets Far from the that old eastern shore Searching for strange metaphors I don't want to be another victim of fashion I don't want to see my name in the paper each day Leave that to the young Turks They're more handsome and dashing Posing for paparazzi's down Laguna way Down in the metro I feel the world start to multiply Bastille, rubber wheels, spiked heels, subterranean lullaby Met an African prancer, a hemisphere dancer Spied the ghost of Brassens We smiled at the secret we shared And I hid it like contraband Chorus Quietly making noise, making noise Starts with kindergarten toys Not too soft not too loud Just enough to draw a crowd Quietly, quietly, quietly making noise Followed the beat, I found myself in this patois spot Outside a blizzard was blowing but inside the joint was hot Zouk songs, rubber thongs, sing-a-longs The words flew right by my face Rhythm and motions, a blamma jamma potion You cannot erase Quietly making noise, making noise Pissin off the old killjoys Glass packs on a hot Mustang A Telecaster with a twang Quietly, quietly, quietly making noise Singers and writers and poets Have flocked here for centuries The city of light is built upon mountains of memories Baritone saxophone, monotones Speak of the voice I've heard before It's a lasting impression A Gypsy expression you cannot ignore
This is the classic, unadorned expression of This products core identity: pure Turkish character delivered through sophisticated modern filtration
The anterior cover is embellished with an impressive enamel panel depicting a gentleman with a monical and dressed in formal attire aiding a lady with the removal of her shoes whilst her gown lays discarded on the floor to the background and a small dog sat on a pillow observes to the foreground
Chepito: And look Chepito: Its a Bust-All! Chepito: They usually dont give these to the new guys
