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We all came out to Montreux

On the Lake Geneva shoreline

To make records with a mobile

We didn't have much time

Frank Zappa and the Mothers

Were at the best place around

But some stupid with a flare gun

Burned the place to the ground

Smoke on the water, fire in the sky

They burned down the gambling house

It died with an awful sound

Funky Claude was running in and out

Pulling kids out the ground

When it all was over

We had to find another place

But Swiss time was running out

It seemed that we would lose the race

Smoke on the water, fire in the sky

We ended up at the Grand Hotel

It was empty cold and bare

But with the Rolling truck Stones thing just outside

Making our music there

With a few red lights and a few old beds

We made a place to sweat

No matter what we get out of this

I know we'll never forget

Smoke on the water, fire in the sky

/

Georgia, Georgia, the whole day through

Just an old sweet song keeps Georgia on my mind, Georgia on my mind

Each day, Georgia my honey, a song of you

Comes as sweet and clear as moonlight through the pines

Other arms reach out to me, other eyes smile tenderly

Still in peaceful dreams I see

The road leads back to you, to you beautiful Georgia

Georgia, no peace I find

Just an old sweet song keeps Georgia on my mind

Georgia, Georgia, no peace I find

Just an old sweet song keeps Georgia on my mind

Georgia on my mind