Pretty Things

Havana Bound

Pretty Things


I was encased in an aircraft 
Feeling so sick I couldn't say 
When the cat next to me 
Said let's take it down to Cuba way 
Well his manner wasn't nice 
But his hand grenades looked very mean 
And the luger down his trousers 
Well that was twice as obscene 

When we touched down in Cuba 
The temp was a 105° 
Though the cantenna was closed 
Even I was glad to be alive 
As for two weeks in Miami 
I sussed then that they were blown 
Dr. Fidel wasn't home 
So they showed us where the sugar was grown 

Chorus Havana Bound hi-jacked by some joker 
Took me down to Cuba 
Where the grass was green 

Solo 

Well the passport man came up to me 
And he really looked sly 
Well he chalked on my valise 
And then the cat let me by 
Well I didn't mean to immigrate here 
I told him all so quiet 
But he gave me my visa 
But then he wanted me to buy it 

Chorus