Cocoa
I’d die to make you cocoa,
To warm your chest and hands.
Will drive me poco loco—
This dream that never lands.
Can’t stay forever so-so,
And no one understands;
For you the distance I’ll go,
As proud as marching bands.
I’d die to make you cocoa,
To warm your chest and hands.
Will drive me poco loco—
This dream that never lands.
Can’t stay forever so-so,
And no one understands;
For you the distance I’ll go,
As proud as marching bands.