I met her in redondo
just like jean-paul belmondo
i lit a cigarette and said,
"i'm glad we've met."
she took me to her casa
i didn't know if i would last
but she said, "it's all so easy."
and just like the long zambezi
i washed onto her shores
and i almost could've swore
she said, "look here i must confess,
you fuck like herman hesse writes."
but i'm not really sure
i was half out the door
and i never did go back
'cause just like fleetwood mac
we broke up right there and then
and we're never good again
but every once in a while
i miss her bedroom style
and that small beach house rental
were we fucked transcendentally
i wish i knew her name
i'd call her up again
but i guess that's just my pattern
when something really matters
i just let it go
'cause it's better not to know