California is where
We laughed under the stairs
And ate oranges and red wine
The merlot matched my eyes
And the sorrow that lies
There, but you’d rather look at the rind
When I meet you, I’ll greet you
And say how’d you do
But I know that the real you I’m not talkin to
In the west coast, precious ghosts
Peel skin off the limes
And sting me with beauty
I will no longer find
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