Casablanca

Hooker pipe, and hush, there’s a dome in my sight,

I’m keeping it kosher in the casbah tonight

The music’s from New York, but who’s listening to that?

The rug is so enchanting it could fly me to Rabat

 

Inhale, exhale, I’m smoking, puff puff, in Arabic

My camel’s parked outside, it’s time to cross my feet

Am I in Nairobi, or is that Damascus Gate?

A bazaar in Cairo, or Baghdad, I forget

 

I can hear the Mediterranean, or is that the Nile?

I see a Beirut dancer in my mind’s dreamscape mile

Is it something in the smoke, or something in the beer?

I’m a Sultan, sitting down on cushions over here

 

On and on, the New York songs are drawing trancers to the ground

The Middle Eastern King is twiddling his thumb

I tell a joke, then I laugh and grin at my souvenir

Inhale. Ah. Exhale. Ooh.  I’m far away from here

 

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