We all came down to Montreaux
On the lake geneva shore line
To make records with the mobile
We didn't have much time
Frank Zappa and the mothers
We had the best place around
But some stupid with a flare-gun
Burned the place to the ground
Smoke on the water
A fire in the sky
Smoke on the water
They burned down the gambling house
It died with an awful sound
The funky claude was running in and out
Pulling kids out on the ground
When it all was over
We had to find another place
The swiss time was running out
It seemed that we would lose the race
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
A few old beds
We made a place to sweat
No matter what we get out of this, I know
I know I''ll never forget
