| 作曲 : John Sebastian/Zal Yanovsky | |
| It's really true that nothing matters | |
| No mad mad world and no mad hatters | |
| And no one's pitching 'cause there ain't no batters | |
| In Coconut Grove | |
| Don't bother, Lord, there's no one coming | |
| The ocean's roaring round the droning | |
| Ah, Benny said her thoughts of city ways | |
| The ocean breezes cool my mind | |
| The sultry days of hers and mine | |
| Just to do what we want to | |
| Tonight we'll find a dune that's ours | |
| And softly she will speak of stars until sun-up | |
| It's all from having someone knowing | |
| Just which way your head is blowing | |
| It's always warm like in the morning | |
| In Coconut Grove | |
| The ocean breezes cool my mind | |
| The sultry days of hers and mine | |
| Just to do what we want to | |
| Tonight we'll find a dune that's ours | |
| And softly she will speak of stars until sun-up | |
| It's all from having someone knowing | |
| Just which way your head is blowing | |
| It's always warm like in the morning | |
| In Coconut Grove | |
| Oh, oh, oh... |
| zuo qu : John Sebastian Zal Yanovsky | |
| It' s really true that nothing matters | |
| No mad mad world and no mad hatters | |
| And no one' s pitching ' cause there ain' t no batters | |
| In Coconut Grove | |
| Don' t bother, Lord, there' s no one coming | |
| The ocean' s roaring round the droning | |
| Ah, Benny said her thoughts of city ways | |
| The ocean breezes cool my mind | |
| The sultry days of hers and mine | |
| Just to do what we want to | |
| Tonight we' ll find a dune that' s ours | |
| And softly she will speak of stars until sun-up | |
| It' s all from having someone knowing | |
| Just which way your head is blowing | |
| It' s always warm like in the morning | |
| In Coconut Grove | |
| The ocean breezes cool my mind | |
| The sultry days of hers and mine | |
| Just to do what we want to | |
| Tonight we' ll find a dune that' s ours | |
| And softly she will speak of stars until sun-up | |
| It' s all from having someone knowing | |
| Just which way your head is blowing | |
| It' s always warm like in the morning | |
| In Coconut Grove | |
| Oh, oh, oh. . . |
| zuò qǔ : John Sebastian Zal Yanovsky | |
| It' s really true that nothing matters | |
| No mad mad world and no mad hatters | |
| And no one' s pitching ' cause there ain' t no batters | |
| In Coconut Grove | |
| Don' t bother, Lord, there' s no one coming | |
| The ocean' s roaring round the droning | |
| Ah, Benny said her thoughts of city ways | |
| The ocean breezes cool my mind | |
| The sultry days of hers and mine | |
| Just to do what we want to | |
| Tonight we' ll find a dune that' s ours | |
| And softly she will speak of stars until sun-up | |
| It' s all from having someone knowing | |
| Just which way your head is blowing | |
| It' s always warm like in the morning | |
| In Coconut Grove | |
| The ocean breezes cool my mind | |
| The sultry days of hers and mine | |
| Just to do what we want to | |
| Tonight we' ll find a dune that' s ours | |
| And softly she will speak of stars until sun-up | |
| It' s all from having someone knowing | |
| Just which way your head is blowing | |
| It' s always warm like in the morning | |
| In Coconut Grove | |
| Oh, oh, oh. . . |
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