FloriDada

Child of limousines

What's the best place

That you have seen

All of the hands

That you have shook

Home of the queen of

Everything fancy

Is there a smell

That you can tell

Gives you some peace

Sends you to hell

All of the beds

That you have yearned

Is there a dream to

Where you’d return

Where is the plight

With the most stars

Where do you drink

By Echo guitars

What’s the best shore

Seen from a boat

Miniature heads that

Color the shore line

If you could rest

A minute to tell

Get me some grass

Iridescent shells

I know there’s a nest

Fit with a hatch

Sunset a glowin’

Makes us all sweaty

I don’t even know where to begin

Or how I should start these days

The green mountain south or

The Clay of the westerns

The Maryland meadows at midnight

They do have a misty grace

Take a trip to blue bayou

Find Roy Orbison cryin’

A continent molded from glass

Or maybe a town I can taste

Dresses that glow on

Girls from Barcelona

I wanna discover the key

And open the everywhere place

A mix of sky from Montana

Dipped in FloriDada

Flori, Flori, Flori, Flori, Florida

FloriDada, FloriDada

Flori, Flori, Flori, Flori, Florida

FloriDada, FloriDada

Flori, Flori, Flori, Flori, Florida

FloriDada, FloriDada

Flori, Flori, Flori, Flori, Florida

FloriDada, FloriDada

Old demented men

Where is the place

We can extend

Crooked state lines

Polka dot signs

Say that this place is

A state of mind

Pretty lip girls

Paint me the halls

Not on a street

Not near a mall

Raise me a thumb

From human skin

That isn’t judged by

Where it begins

Show me the clams

Show me the pearls

Mail me a note

Sent from a world

That isn’t so far

And always right here

Where all the boundaries

Have disappeared

And all the nights

Are stitched with a glue

That’s sticking to me

And I’ll stick to you

I’ll take your hands

You’ll take my face

And everywhere home will

Be a good place

I found myself there a collagin’

With all of the human race

A dancer from Ghana

Smiling in Tijuana

I Frankenstein java with touches of Prada

And corn on the plates

A smear of gardenia

In the fair hair of sweden

And maybe I actually visited

Some sort of mythical place

Or was it a future

Connected by sutures

Oh let’s go get lost in the image

I made of the everywhere place

I see the lads from Osaka

Dyed in FloriDada

Flori, Flori, Flori, Flori, Florida

FloriDada, FloriDada

Flori, Flori, Flori, Flori, Florida

FloriDada, FloriDada

Where’s the bridge that’s gonna take me home

The bridge that someone’s fighting over

A bridge that someone’s paying for

A bridge so old so let it go

Where’s the bridge that’s gonna take me home

The bridge that someone’s fighting over

A bridge that someone’s paying for

A bridge so old so let it go

Where’s the bridge that’s gonna take me home

The bridge that someone’s fighting over

A bridge that someone’s paying for

A bridge so old so let it go

Where’s the bridge that’s gonna take me home

The bridge that someone’s fighting over

A bridge that someone’s paying for

A bridge so old so let it go

Flori, Flori, Flori, Flori, Florida

FloriDada, FloriDada

Flori, Flori, Flori, Flori, Florida

FloriDada, FloriDada

Flori, Flori, Flori, Flori, Florida

FloriDada, FloriDada

Flori, Flori, Flori, Flori, Florida

FloriDada, FloriDada

Flori, Flori, Flori, Flori, Florida

FloriDada, FloriDada

Flori, Flori, Flori, Flori, Florida

FloriDada, FloriDada