A Million Little Pieces Of My Mind

A rumba, of all things—the one number on the album that doesn't sound like it belongs in a USO tent at all, and that's the joke. Every South Pacific postcard cliche gets its due: moonlight, trade winds, island maidens, the whole travelogue. And every verse turns it down flat for a porch, a neighbor, a mailman who's always late. Paradise gets the better tune. Home gets the last word.

The Smooth Brothers sing this one together—Richard Perkins, Frank Bellamy, and Walt Delacroix, whose biographies you'll find over on "Three Girls Back Home." This is the trio's one shot at close harmony without a fourth voice on the melody, and they reportedly milked the rumba sway for all it was worth, to the considerable amusement of everyone standing in the wings.

They say the South Pacific is a dream you can't forget…
But dreams don't do your laundry, and they don't feed your pet.

I've seen the moon on Fiji, like a lantern in the blue,
And I've watched the waves on Tahiti dance a slow tattoo.
I've heard the island maidens sing a tune that drifts along…
But paradise can't hold me long—
Without your kettle whistlin' that old song.

[Chorus]
Oh, the palm trees sway, and the nights are warm,
And the trade winds hum their lullaby.
But give me a porch with a creaky floor,
And a neighbor sayin' hi.
Yes, paradise is lovely, dear—
But it's not home, and that's why I'm here.

I've tasted mango nectar served by moonlight on the sand,
And I've danced a rumba barefoot with a flower in my hand.
But every time the ocean sighs its long, romantic sigh…
I think of you and grocery lines, and cry.

[Chorus]
Oh, the palm trees sway, and the nights are warm,
And the trade winds hum their tune.
But give me a street where the lamppost glows
Like a shy and silver moon.
Yes, paradise is charming, dear—
But it's not home, and that's why I'm here.

They say the islands cure a heart
That's weary from the fight…
But I'd trade a thousand sunsets
For your porch light every night.
And though the surf keeps whisperin'
"Stay with me, stay strong…"
I whisper back, "You're beautiful—
But you're not where I belong."

I've seen the dawn on Samoa paint the sky in coral red,
And I've slept beneath a palm tree with the stars above my head.
But even in that splendor, dear, I felt a little wrong…
For paradise can't hold me long—
Not when your laugh's my favorite song.

[Chorus]
Oh, the palm trees sway, and the nights are warm,
And the trade winds call my name…
But give me a life where the coffee's weak
And the mailman's always late.
Yes, paradise is heaven, dear—
But home is you, and that's why I'm here.

Paradise is lovely…
But you're the place I long to be.