By: John B. Sebastian
1974
Talkin' to myself again
Wonderin' if this travellin' is good
Is there somethin' else a' doin'
We'd be doin' if we could
Chorus:
But ah, the stories we could tell
And if it all blows up and goes to Hell
I wish that we could sit upon a bed in some motel
Listen to the stories we could tell
Stared at that guitar in that museum in Tennessee
Nameplate on the glass brought back twenty melodies
Scars upon the face told of all the times he fell
Singin' all the stories he could tell
Chorus:
Ah, the stories he could tell
And I'll bet you it still rings like a bell
I wish that we could sit upon a bed in some motel
And listen to the stories it could tell
So if you're on the road trackin' down your every night
Playin' for a livin' beneath brightly colored lights
And if you ever wonder why you ride the carousel
You do it for the stories you can tell
Ah, the stories we could tell
And if it all blows up and goes to Hell
I wish that we could sit upon a bed in some motel
Just listen to the stories we could tell
Coda:
Yes, I wish that we could sit upon a bed in some motel
Listen to the stories it could tell(Shel Silverstein)
(Hey play the guitars)
(I love to hear the guitars play)
(Oh I love to sing, I love to sing)
She was dancing when I seen her, in a Mexican cantina
In a neighbourhood they call La Zona Roja (hahahaha)
She had a child's smile, but she told me, in a while
It would take a lot of gold to get to know her (Oh)
Acapulco Goldie, donde did you go
You said you'd always hold me
But you run away with me Acapulco gold
(Oh that's a terrible thing you did)
I knew there's no-one cuter, then she said she was a puta
I said "What does puta mean?" Hmm and so she told me... (Oh no)
Then we went to meet a dealer, we smoked and drank tequila
Then the lights went out and I guess that's where she rolled me (just like)
Acapulco Goldie, por que did you go?
You said you'd always hold me
But you vamos away with me Acapulco gold
Yes, you run away with me Acapulco gold
(Oh Goldie)
(How can you do these things to me?)
(Where's my gun?)
(Who took my gun?)
(On no, I don't feel good)
(I don't feel good babe)
(Start the guitars)
(Start the guitars)
(c)1976 CBS Inc.