Wednesday, 9 January 2013

Promised Land

She invites me to her villa for martinis on the pool deck
To meet her twin sister and to work out if they're Poles or Czech
I say I'll think about it and she slips a scented envelope
Through her tanned cleavage and down past my periscope

Right into my hands
as the sun starts to rise over the promised land

Feeling fresh and cool and driving slow and gently
I leave home in my Jag and arrive there in my Bentley
Their butler sees me coming and is waiting in her skirt and lace
Her legs and her stilettos lead me up the stone staircase

Right into their hands
as the sun starts to set in the promised land