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i got my hat . got my warm shoes

that white stuff is falling but i still have the blues

i can’t go out and play

the snow’s in colorado, but my skis are in l.a.

i look in the basement, check the lost & found

write it up in the want ads but it’s still got me down

looks like those boards found their own set of keys

doesn’t anybody know what happened to my ol’ runaway skis?

that fine white powder is piled up to my nose

the driest and deepest and fastest as snow goes

it’s academic . if snow was water we’d all drown

then you call me up, jackie and tell me my skis are in your home town

i travel ’round the country, i travel far and wide

but i still don’t know how my skis got to be on your side

i like california but l.a.’s got the wrong kind o’ snow

so won’t you pack up those skis and point them to colorado

80s