Island People - The High Llamas

Don’t come waltzing back to my door

I cannot give any more

You country cousins, squabble and fight

And gamble your way through the night

The money’s all gone, it’s time to move on

Leave all the debts, those letters and threats, oh

The island awaits the quarryman’s whim

Who dillies and dallies within

The favoured fearful take some offence

And speak of those summers well spent

If the rumours are true, the daytrips are through

Leave with the rest, who could not care less, oh

The rumours are true, the daytrips are through

Leave with the rest, who could not care less, oh