She hears the rhythmic music of the band,
above the waves that whisper in the night.
A glass of pink champagne is in her hand.
A tourist in a lush exotic land,
she came upon a transatlantic flight.
She hears the rhythmic music of the band.
These dreamy sun kissed days were never planned;
to pack a bag and leave had just seemed right.
A glass of pink champagne is in her hand.
Beneath her feet, she feels the tropic sand,
while ocean tides are in her line of sight.
She hears the rhythmic music of the band,
and palm fronds sway as if they softly fanned,
the island while the moon gleams marble white.
A glass of pink champagne is in her hand.
Behind her, plush hotels and mansions stand,
with glitzy windows sparkling topaz light.
She hears the rhythmic music of the band.
A glass of pink champagne is in her hand.
