I flew from the prairies west to the sea
And landed in Santa Barbara
And lay on the beach beneath a palm tree
And ordered spaghetti carbonara
And a bottle of red wine with a bouquet
Of lavender, apples, and plywood
And if you asked me if I wanted to stay,
I'd have to say that I would.
The live oaks, junipers, weeping bamboo
Cypress, date palm, jacaranda,
A Tristaniopsis Laurina for you
And for me an erythrina humeana
The trees are so verdant, the grass rich and green
Like the garden of eden, an arbor a
Man could recline in, peaceful, serene,
And settle down in Santa Barbara.
The sun and the sand, the sea and the sky,
The salt air in Santa Barbara.
The sweetness of flowers brings tears to my eye
As if at a Puccini opera.
The wind and the water and the wonderful wild
Crash of the waves on shore
And suddenly I have become a child
And I feel ambitious no more
No more no more
And I feel ambitious no more.
Movie stars live here like Oprah and Meryl
And Barbra in Santa Barbara,
And John O'Hara and F. Scott Fitzgerald
And Lara and Che Guevara.
They live in the houses behind the high walls
And wait til the sun goes down
And when it is dark and the whippoorwill calls
They wander around through the town.