Paroles
Well, you heard about the alligators sleepin' in the shade
You heard about the sugar barons screwin' up the glades
It's a melting pot existence that is hard to contemplate
And a never-ending battle in the Sunshine State
But far, far away from the front page news
Far, far away from the headline blues
Down a secondary road that severely shows its age
The '40s comes to life on a makeshift stage
It's the Bob Roberts Society Band
Playing every Sunday at the Orange Grove Stand
They don't play grunge, and they don't play loud
It's the magic of the music that still draws a crowd
Well, the word goes out from Melbourne to the Keys
The faithful get the message like it's written on the breeze
Young folks, old folks 'bout to cut a rug
Fox Trot, Bunny Hop, do the Jitterbug
To the Bob Roberts Society Band
Playing every Sunday at the Orange Grove Stand
They don't play grunge, and they don't play loud
It's the magic of the music that still draws a crowd
I saw minivans from Boca, buses from Perrine
There were people speaking Hindu in the barbecue line
A couple on their honeymoon looked a bit confused
But the boys in the band put 'em right in the mood, they played
A lady dressed in purple started dancing all alone
Then she sauntered, oh-so gently to the vacant microphone
She sounded like she's someone that never missed a beat
By the time the number ended, they were dancin' in the street
They'd died and gone to heaven, that lively little crowd
Trombones and saxophones sent 'em through the clouds
It could have gone all night, but the party had to stop
When they blew the circuit breaker in the souvenir shop
It's the Bob Roberts Society Band
Playing every Sunday at the Orange Grove Stand
They don't play grunge, and they don't play loud
It's the magic of the music that still draws a crowd
It's the Bob Roberts Society Band
Playing every Sunday down at the Orange Grove Stand
They don't play grunge, they don't play loud
It's the magic of the music that still draws a crowd
Oh, yeah
