on a dark island highway
cool smoke in my hair
warm smell of cannabis
rising up through the air
up ahead in the distance
i saw a shimmering light
my eyes were wide and my head did spin
i had to stop for the night

there she stood in the doorway
i heard the ganja's spells
i was thinking to myself
this could be heaven or this could be hell
then she lit up a tulip
and she showed me the way
smoke was coming from under every door
thought i heard it say

welcome to the hotel jamaica
such a groovy place (such a groovy place)
lots of room to waste
plenty of weed at the hotel jamaica
any time of year (any time of year)
you can smoke it here

her mind is tiffany twisted
she got the munchies again, uh
she got a lot of pretty pretty bongs
that she calls friends
how they toke in the courtyard
sweet cannabis
some toke as a habit
some toke to confess

so i called up the ganjaman
i said, "please give me a draw"
he said, "we haven't had that image here
since nineteen sixty-four"
and still they're smoking them joints
to this very day
wake you up in the middle of the night
just to waste away

welcome to the hotel jamaica
such a spaced-out place (such a spaced-out place)
lots of room to waste
plenty of weed at the hotel jamaica
you can glaze your eyes (you can glaze your eyes)
and see pink skies

lungs made from Sprite bottles
the cone rolling device
and she says, we all obey etiquette here
to our own demise
and in the wasters' chamber
they gather for blowbacks
they cough until the cows come in
but they still don't hit the sack

last thing i remember
i was passed out on the floor
i had to find the bathroom sink
to recall the night before
chill out, said the bathtub
we are all down on our knees
you can't spew up any time you like
cos then you'd be whitey(ing)