We're gettin' tanned and tipsy,
Wet and wild on the Willy T.
Rum in hand, souls runnin' free,
Jammin' like Marley in the Virgin breeze.
Caught turquoise tides off Jost Van Dyke.
(oh oh)
With sun-kissed skin and laughter bright,
We climbed aboard with a rebel sway.
(oh oh)
No shoes, no rules, just sailin' away.
Cut-off jeans on a sugar shore.
(oooh)
With a back pocket flask and room for more,
We raised a toast to the sky and sea.
(aaah)
"This island life's the life for me."
We're gettin' tanned and tipsy,
Wet and wild on the Willy T.
Rum in hand, souls runnin' free,
Jammin' like Marley in the Virgin breeze.
From Soggy Dollar to Foxy's Firewater,
Livin' on island time is our hearts' desire.
No map, no plan, just let it be.
We're writin' our story on the open sea.
From Sandy Spit to Cow Wreck Bay.
(oh oh)
We danced through sunsets and chased the day,
Carved our names into a tiki bar.
(oh oh)
Under moonlit sails we were drunk on stars.
Rum-run rhythms from steel pan keys.
(oooh)
Trading real life for tropical ease,
No ties, no clocks, no 9-to-5.
(aaah)
Beach bar dreams keepin' us alive.
It all started as a two week escape,
But we found our hearts in island shape.
With every dive and every toast,
We found the parts we missed the most.
Like a Chesney tune on a barefoot night,
Singing "No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem" in the moonlight.
We're gettin' tanned and tipsy,
Wet and wild on the Willy T.
Rum in hand, souls runnin' free,
Jammin' like Marley in the Virgin breeze.
From Soggy Dollar to Foxy's Firewater,
Livin' on island time is our hearts' desire.
No map, no plan, just let it be.
We're writin' our story on the open sea.
It started as a two week escape,
But we found our hearts in island shape.
(aaah)
With every dive and every toast,
We found the parts we missed the most.
(oooh)
Like a Chesney tune on a barefoot night,
Singing "No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem" in the moonlight.
(oh oh oh)
From Soggy Dollar to Cow Wreck Bay.
(oh oh oh)
We danced through sunsets and chased the day,
Carved our names into a tiki bars.
(oh oh oh)
Under moonlit sails we were drunk on stars.
Rum-run rhythms from steel pan keys.
(oooh)
Trading real life for tropical ease,
No ties, no clocks, no 9-to-5.
(aaah)
Beach bar dreams keepin' us alive.
Now every island knows our name.
(oh oh oh)
From barefoot tales to conga fame,
We're more than myths in barroom lines.
(oh oh oh)
We're tiki-bar legends in tropical signs.
With shades pulled low and wind-swept hair.
(oooh)
We found our truth on Saint Somewhere,
No deadlines here, just friends and rum.
(aaah)
And waves that dance to steel drums.
We're getting tanned and tipsy.
From Bomba's Shack to Tortola nights.
(ooooh)
Like a Buffett song playing "Son, of a son, of a Sailor man."
(aaaah)
We're living this island life the best we can.