Down to the Banana Republics, down to the tropical sun Go the expatriated Americans, hopin' to find some fun Some of them go for the sailing, caught by the lure of the sea Tryin' to find what is ailing, livin' in the land of the free Some of them are running from lovers, leaving no forward address Some of them are running tons of ganja Some are running from the I.R.S. Chorus: Late at night you will find them In the cheap hotels and bars Hustling the senoritas while they dance beneath the stars Spending those renegade pesos on a bottle of rum and a lime Singin' give me some words I can dance to Or a melody that rhymes First you learn the native customs soon a word of spanish or two You know that you cannot trust them 'Cause they know they can't trust you Expatriated Americans feelin' so all alone Telling themselves the same lies That they told themselves back home Down to the Banana Republics, things aren't as warm as they seem None of the natives are buying any second-hand American dreams Chorus Down to the Banana Republics, down to the tropical sun Go the expatriated Americans hopin' to find some fun