"Tunisia."

You're flying to Paris,

(Where your connecting flight is to Tunis),

The first sight you see is the shore,

From outside the window.

And if one imagine's what one would find,

In a short amount of time,

The plane touches down,
You're about to hear a Tunisian tale

Of wealth and knowledge...

And your heart beat's fast,

Cause you're alive. 

A voice says you're shaken

By all the other times you've seen sand.

When you seek the wind from the west,

You can be on time now,

You notice the humidity is at an all time low,

There's a woman making a viable claim,

You don't know whether

It's at a parlor or a restaurant,

If you saw the jewel,

Maybe you could give it as a gift.

When you're catching a taxi,

Everyone's looking forward to the hostel.

Two teachers are standing in front of you

You expect to find a land of religious folk.

But you wonder what the plan is like,

Since you're in a foreign land,

And they're taking a train to Sfax.

Your group hops on the bus, 

A friend picks up the guitar and sings,

It's some tune you've not heard before,

You've heard the eastern radio on your way up,

After a few nights spent

You're hanging in the courtyard,

You remember back in Florida,

There's a psychiatrist,

Who's in your mind who knew,

Sometimes all your observations are incorrect, 

And though she doesn't state it she gives you a label.

There's the distant dunes of the desert,

Which are changing by the wind in fine,

That all the hotels in the world cannot imitate.