It's really true
|
how nothin' matters.
|
Then, my word, and
|
no mad hatters.
|
No one's bitchin'
|
'cause there ain't no batters
|
in Coconut Grove.
|
|
By the door,
|
there's no one comin'.
|
Oceans roll
|
will dull the drummin'
|
in your city thoughts and
|
city ways.
|
|
The ocean breeze is cool,
|
my mind.
|
The salty days are hers and mine
|
just to do what we want to.
|
Tonight we'll find a dune
|
that's ours
|
and softly she will speak the stars
|
'til the sun up.
|
|
It's all from havin'
|
someone knowing
|
just which way your head is blowin'.
|
It's always warm
|
like in the mornin'
|
in Coconut Grove.
|
|
The ocean breeze is cool,
|
my mind, the salty days are
|
hers and mine,
|
just to do what we wanna.
|
Tonight we'll find a dune that's ours
|
and softly she will speak the stars
|
until sun up.
|
|
It's really true
|
how nothin' matters.
|
Then, my word, and no
|
mad hatters.
|
No one's bitchin'
|
'cause there ain't no batters
|
in Coconut Grove.
|
|
-----------------
|
Coconut Grove
|
| Serena Ryder |
