Hard to Forget

Along the Pacific Coast Highway far from the noise and mayhem
of Baal's descendants there is a place. A place not frequented by
the tenants of mansions which sit on stony cliffs high above the
ocean blue.

Along the windy open highway of California's Pacific Coast
there is a place where I took rest and relaxation.
I met a young girl with straight white teeth and a braided
lock of hair. She reminded me of a daughter I would have
wanted to have.

Along the Pacific Coast Highway far from the noise and mayhem
of Baal's descendants and much removed from mansions which
hover above the waves of the ocean blue sea, there is a place where
I took rest and relaxation. I met a thin, young, orphan girl
and could do no more than to say hello. I could do no more.