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When I got back home I found a message on the door |
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Sweet Regina's gone to China cross legged on the floor |
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Of a burning jet that's smoothly flying |
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Burning airlines give you so much more |
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How does she intend to live when she's in far Cathay |
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I somehow can't imagine her just planting rice all day |
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Maybe she will do a bit of spying |
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With micro cameras hidden in her hair |
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I guess regina's on a plane a Newsweek on her knees |
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While miles below the curlews call from strangely stunted trees |
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The painted sage sits just as though he's flying |
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Regina's jet disturbs his wispy beard |
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When you reach Kyoto send a postcard if you can |
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And please convey my fond regards to Chihhao's girl Yu-lan |
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I heard a rumor they were getting married |
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But someone left the papers in Japan |
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Left them in Japan |
