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