Traveling across the Yolo causeway,
I’ve had cool wind in my hair.
But have never given colitas a care.
I’ve stood in a doorway
And glanced over the bay.
I’ve heard a mission bell
And become drunk off Zinfandel.
I’ve been to a California motel
And heard an echo from a seashell.
It was such a lovely place
With a comforting embrace.