There is a temperate zone in the mind, between luxurious indolence and exacting work; and it is to this region, just between laziness and labor, that summer reading belongs.
Henry Ward Beecher
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Gotta Go Home
Headin' for the islands
We're ready man and packed to go
When we hit those islands
There's gonna be a big hello
Diggin' all the sunshine
It's easy not to say goodbye
Bye Bye Bye
Headin' for the islands
Heyeah, We're really flyin' high
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home
Walkin' down the beaches
Tomorrow mornin' we'll be there
Golden sandy beaches
Say, I can smell the breezy air
One more celebration
And then we're ready for goodbye
Bye, Bye,Bye
Walkin' down the beaches
Heyeah, We're really flyin' high
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home
Going back home
Going back home
Going back home
Going back home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home