Coconut Grove

It’s really true, how nothing matters,
No mad, mad world,
And no mad hatters,
No one’s pitching,
Cause there ain’t no batters,
In Coconut Grove.
Don’t bother door,
The ocean’s roar,
Were double drumming,
Of many silly thoughts and silly ways.
The ocean breeze has cooled my mind,
The salty days are hers and mine,
Just to do what we wanna.
Tonight we’ll find a dune that’s ours,
And softly she will speak of stars,
Until the sun up.
It’s all from having someone knowing,
Just which way your head is blowing,
It was always warm like in the morning,
In Coconut Grove.