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
