Oh fly on you mixed up swallows,
this is not the stop
that God planned
You are over San Juan's
crippled sister
and it's best you do not land
Sing your song to Junipero Serra
Ask him why we were left
in the breach
Could have used a good missionary
here in Capistrano Beach
Got a stepdad in Tampa,
most my friends have moved on
Got an old gal who's a habit
I suppose I love still
We used to imagine our kids
would fill two station wagons
and we'd live in the Palisades
over the hill
Now big money
owns the high cliffs
and the ocean view leases
Down here theres sewage
backed up in Bacteria Bay
And the wild dogs chase the bikers
along the gray hopeless beaches
where the drugged punks
chuck driftwood,
get tanned so they'll look good
when they're beatin' up
drifters and gays
Ol' Jesus got busted
but his restaurant's still open
They got a rat or two in there
and a fine chili relleno
With all the stiff competition
Leo's Liquor is closin'
Poor Leo went down
drinkin' whisky and Drano
Well, the grade school burned up
killin' mean old Miss Day
who pinched our young arms
when we got her too mad
She'd tear up when she'd
read to us
from Hemingway
Don't know why to this day I
still visit her gravesite
Hope she knows I only turned out
half bad
We'll think about Mexico
and livin' down there
I've heard of guys like me
makin' new starts,
out on their own fishin' boats
with the wind in their hair
but this town whispers low
sayin' "you'll never go...
hey brother, till death do us part"
Terry Scott Taylor - Capistrano Beach Lyrics
Terry Scott Taylor - Capistrano Beach Lyrics
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
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Oh fly on you mixed up swallows,
this is not the stop
that God planned
You are over San Juan's
crippled sister
and it's best you do not land
Sing your song to Junipero Serra
Ask him why we were left
in the breach
Could have used a good missionary
here in Capistrano Beach
Got a stepdad in Tampa,
most my friends have moved on
Got an old gal who's a habit
I suppose I love still
We used to imagine our kids
would fill two station wagons
and we'd live in the Palisades
over the hill
Now big money
owns the high cliffs
and the ocean view leases
Down here theres sewage
backed up in Bacteria Bay
And the wild dogs chase the bikers
along the gray hopeless beaches
where the drugged punks
chuck driftwood,
get tanned so they'll look good
when they're beatin' up
drifters and gays
Ol' Jesus got busted
but his restaurant's still open
They got a rat or two in there
and a fine chili relleno
With all the stiff competition
Leo's Liquor is closin'
Poor Leo went down
drinkin' whisky and Drano
Well, the grade school burned up
killin' mean old Miss Day
who pinched our young arms
when we got her too mad
She'd tear up when she'd
read to us
from Hemingway
Don't know why to this day I
still visit her gravesite
Hope she knows I only turned out
half bad
We'll think about Mexico
and livin' down there
I've heard of guys like me
makin' new starts,
out on their own fishin' boats
with the wind in their hair
but this town whispers low
sayin' "you'll never go...
hey brother, till death do us part"
this is not the stop
that God planned
You are over San Juan's
crippled sister
and it's best you do not land
Sing your song to Junipero Serra
Ask him why we were left
in the breach
Could have used a good missionary
here in Capistrano Beach
Got a stepdad in Tampa,
most my friends have moved on
Got an old gal who's a habit
I suppose I love still
We used to imagine our kids
would fill two station wagons
and we'd live in the Palisades
over the hill
Now big money
owns the high cliffs
and the ocean view leases
Down here theres sewage
backed up in Bacteria Bay
And the wild dogs chase the bikers
along the gray hopeless beaches
where the drugged punks
chuck driftwood,
get tanned so they'll look good
when they're beatin' up
drifters and gays
Ol' Jesus got busted
but his restaurant's still open
They got a rat or two in there
and a fine chili relleno
With all the stiff competition
Leo's Liquor is closin'
Poor Leo went down
drinkin' whisky and Drano
Well, the grade school burned up
killin' mean old Miss Day
who pinched our young arms
when we got her too mad
She'd tear up when she'd
read to us
from Hemingway
Don't know why to this day I
still visit her gravesite
Hope she knows I only turned out
half bad
We'll think about Mexico
and livin' down there
I've heard of guys like me
makin' new starts,
out on their own fishin' boats
with the wind in their hair
but this town whispers low
sayin' "you'll never go...
hey brother, till death do us part"