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 barre the door,
There’s no one coming,
The ocean’s roar,
Were double drumming,

of many city thoughts and city 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 the stars,
Until sunup.

It’s all from having someone knowing,
Just which way your head is blowing,
Who's always warm like in the morning,

in Coconut Grove.