She couldn't laugh, so she painted a grin on her face.
Letters and photographs, scatterplots littered her place.
You are no toreador!
You couldn't mute me or keep me at bay.
But Spain in the summertime sounds like a plan for the day.
Her parents just saw me as one thing "The Good Book" forbade.
So she married a clergyman, I counted gold by the bay.
I purchased a shuttlecraft.
She told me, "Siempre eres mi corazon!"
But Spain in the summertime's no fun to do on your own.
"I don't see, why you can't say with me,
We gain an hour or two when we head to The States."
"Because my love, my God doesn't live for love,
Unless you see Him in this one specific way"
"It's sad, I know,
But then what isn't now, we're old?"
"But you comb through time, and your mind seems to work like mine,
The other option, dear, was wanting nothing more."