Gwen would ya go down to the beach with me
She's already there, made it cuz she was
sore A trip a party, maybe
Like a slip to the rocks
and tell me is she someone's baby
That time in Monterey was real low
and calm, she stole the moon, 'way
that she talks, and now she never
ever stays inside
Way too reluctant, and radical she is,
there borrowing dimes to pry
shells off the moss off the boats
Not givin it up either, because that
bar man tried to move her in
She told him thanks for the day
But we all know she won't
When she nods her pretty light head
it swings the tides over from some other
sea, not like here on pacifica coasts
But somewhere maybe Greece, Italy
White, aisles of white White in her
hair and blonde pearls in her cheeks
While she blushes the sun comes up,
don't matter what time or where
she is...I know man i know all-o-this
And you say she's never been around...?
Swear its real, the day her father died
she's got a hunnerd guys in every -town
-Ville, -field, this country's a chessboard
for the lovely West coast sparkling queen,
and she's gotta be a real gem when she
gets drunk...No, actually there was a
lil shindig down that cat alley avenue
while back and she wore em all out
But not until her mirror waltz was
playin, shuffling at her sidling brides
Sllim petal hips and swan-diven lips... |
Submission Name: Pacifica Gwen
