Grab your camping gear We're going on a trip to the South Shore We stop at Carter's Beach The ocean numbs our feet Cause it's too cold But we jump in anyways Oh Come on let's make some memories while we can Oh We'll tour the coast in a renovated van We walk through Lunenburg A kaleidoscopic town on the harbour And when the sky gets dark We look up at the starts and wonder How our lives are gonna change Ohh Come on let's make some memories while we can Ohh We'll tour the coast in a renovated van When I Close My Eyes Playing on the ride On the ride back home, I don't wanna go home Take a mental picture of this I don't wanna forget it I don't wanna go home, I don't want this trip to end Ohh Come on let's make some memories while we can Ohh We'll tour the coast in a renovated van

Cold dry wind blowing on your skin Frigid air and your messy hair I love this And I'll miss this Each step forward we leave behind The memories We made here Together Will you remember me When you leave Or will I just be someone you wrote a song with In September When the weather Was better than this Small white house But you're not around It's empty But not really There's a family there But I just don't care It's empty I'm empty Do you remember me In Sicily Or am I just somebody you wrote a song with In September Oh when I was Doing better than this Doing better Doing better Doing better than this Doing better Doing better Doing better than this Do you remember me In Sicily Oh I'm so glad I was the one you wrote that song with In September Oh I hope you're Doing better than this

Like a river falling for you I don't wanna come home Like a river falling for you I don't wanna come home Like a river falling for you I don't wanna come home Like a river falling for you I don't wanna come home Again Like a feather floating floating I don't wanna come down Like a feather floating floating I don't wanna come down Like a feather floating floating I don't wanna come down Like a feather floating floating I don't wanna come down Again Come down Come down I will never come down I will never come down Like a river falling for you I don't wanna come home Like a river falling for you I will never come home Like a feather floating floating I don't wanna come down Like a feather floating floating I will never come down Again

You can ride all day long Another Myke Diesel production (Mike Jones) But you'll never catch Mr. Jones He's got a gang that's far too strong (Ice Age, Ice Age, Ice Age) Your friends know it, that's why you're all alone Chasing a man you can't see (Mike Jones) So just walk away and let him be He's got a shotgun so go back home (Who? Mike Jones Who? Mike Jones) 'Cause you'll never get Mr. Jones (Mike Jones, Mike Jones) I'm back, my music tracks about to sell another mil' My pants stay saggin' from them hundred dollar bills These haters hate but they don't really wanna see the steel These haters hate but they don't really wanna see the steel Had a million in my bank before Asylum bought the deal Had a million in my bank before Asylum bought the deal Before I came I just say the streets wouldn't feel The - that I'm spittin', the - that's real But now I'm like Melo, I'm the king of the hill American dream, I'm livin' that for real Eleven cars later - tell me how you feel Took the diamonds off my teeth And put 'em on my Phantom grill (smile, ha ha) You can ride all day long (Mike Jones) But you'll never catch Mr. Jones He's got a gang that's far too strong (Ice Age, Ice Age, Ice Age) Your friends know it, that's why you're all alone Chasing a man you can't see (Mike Jones) So just walk away and let him be He's got a shotgun so go back home (Who? Mike Jones Who? Mike Jones) 'Cause you'll never get Mr. Jones (Mike Jones, Mike Jones) I used to get dissed by the chicks in the club Now they want to rub my belly, wanna show your boy some love They see me iced up, they be like, "What's up?" Try to jack me if you wanna, I'ma leave you - up Used to roll hatchback, now I'm Cadillac and Benz Used to roll hatchback, now I'm Cadillac and Benz I used to have homies, now I'm like, "- friends" 'Cause even back then all they did was pretend Now I got my own label Ice Age and I'm boss I'm the mayor of this town with the key to that vault All my cars black on black except the one with thick gloss Got another white on white I call that - rick Rick Ross (Ross) You can ride all day long (Mike Jones) But you'll never catch Mr. Jones He's got a gang that's far too strong (Ice Age, Ice Age, Ice Age) Your friends know it, that's why you're all alone (hahahahahaha) Chasing a man you can't see (you can't see me, baby) So just walk away, and let him be He's got a shotgun so go back home (Who? Mike Jones Who? Mike Jones) 'Cause you'll never get Mr. Jones (Mike Jones, Mike Jones) Hey Now make it rain Hey Now make it rain Hey Now make it rain American Dream, album and movie on the way, baby

(Rhythm is both the song's manacle and it's demonic charge. It is the original breath, it is the whisper of unremitting demand. "What do you still want of me?", says the singer. "What do you think you can still draw from my lips?" Exact presence that no fantasy can represent. Purveyor of the oldest secret, alive with the blood that boils again, and is pulsing where the rhythm is torn apart. How your singer's blood is incensed at the depth of sound. Lacerations echo in the mouth's open erotic sky where dance together the lost frenzies of rhythm and an imploring immobility. Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Grace Jones. Jones the Rhythm.) Slave! Slave to the rhythm Dance to the rhythm Axe to wood in ancient times Man machine, production line The fire burns, with heartbeats strong Sing out loud, the chain gang song Never stop the action Keep it up, keep it up Never stop the action Keep it up, keep it up Slave to the rhythm Dance to the rhythm, The rhythm... master... master... Never stop the action, keep it up Never stop the action Keep it up, keep it up. Slave to the rhythm, work to the rhythm, Dance to the rhythm, live to the rhythm. Slave to the rhythm, Dance to the rhythm, live to the rhythm, Slave to the rhythm, work... to the rhythm, To the rhythm, work to the rhythm, to the rhythm. Slave, slave, To the rhythm, to the rhythm, to the rhythm. (Grace) Oh that's weird... (Grace Jones, welcome) Thank you Paul. And if you're wondering what's wrong with my voice, I just choked on my saliva. So... (Now obviously you're in the Bond movie.)