Somewhere on a South Pacific island Sits a young man staring at the surf. His native girlfriend died a death quite violent A tribal sacrifice made to the earth.
She was brown, her hair was black, her eyes were blue. A chief's daughter, Leilani was her name. She and her young man made a handsome two But lava tore them both apart again.
Leilani, don't go to the volcano (he'd say).
They were saving for a little hut, She collected sea-shells every day. Everynight they'd share a cigarette But The ancient, angry gods got in the way.
Still the young man sits upon the beach, He's staring misty-eyed out into space. He's thinking about his girlfriend (of late, deceased), At least her death had purpose; now his life is a waste! Leilani, don't go to the volcano (he'd beg her)
Composição: Dave Faulkner/J.Baker/K.Rendall/R. Radalj