Gods of the West

I see the face
of a girl about my age.
She’s smiling saying, yes, she’s taking off her dress.
And pulling me to bed.
I like to call her El Dorado.
She’s my lost city of gold.
Although I’m no explorer,
I won’t stop till I find her
before my story’s told.
Cause every evening, there’s a sunset.
I like to think it’s just for me.