When I got back home I found a message on the door
Sweet Regina's gone to China cross-legged on the floor
Of a burning jet that's smoothly flying:
Burning airlines give you so much more.
How does she intend to live when she's in far Cathay?
I somehow can't imagine her just planting rice all day.
Maybe she will do a bit of spying
With micro-cameras hidden in her hair.
I guess Regina's on the plane, a Newsweek on her knees
While miles below her the curlews call from strangely stunted trees.
The painted sage sits just as though he's flying;
Regina's jet disturbs his wispy beard.
When you reach Kyoto send a postcard if you can,
And please convey my fond regards to Chih-Hao's girl Yu-Lan.
I heard a rumor they were getting married
But someone left the papers in Japan.
Left them in Japan, left them in Japan...
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