I'm going to Costa Rica
I'm standing in the rain
I am going to see my daughter
I have three suitcases of pain
I'm going to ride a horse
I'm going to pet the mare
I'm going to look death in the eye
and not be scared.
I will find the Voodoo Priestess
and drink water from her well.
I will know the stance of mercy,
I know her very well.
I will hold the baby in my arms
and feel my heart skip a beat;
long and languid tropics
my cold and aching feet.
Did I hear the parrot
in the jungle,
his cry echoing far and wide?
It sounded like this:
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I moved back a giant leaf,
and there he is:
Beckoning me with his big beak
to take another look inside
this forgotten cave,
where the waterfall runs
deep within.