Why don’t we name a place to go?
Cuban Castro, Versailles, or cocoa beans that call West Africa their motherly abode.
You’re all-woman out of Spain. A keepsake chula y linda, my Picasso. Many countries, where to land?
I’ll bake cookies and have you taken back, at how I work through some Oklahoma dough.
Off to Cali, if you want to roll papers. It won’t be EZ. No. We’ll need to take the Top off. Your grass will taste better smoked out. We higher than Mount Everest now, then descend, skinny dipping into the waters of Jamaica- balls out.
Tour the virgin shore of a daydream. Lets make reality. Why dont we? We can. All the vacancies in paradise, will not be worth existing, if it’s not your toes that’s gripping sand.