Antigua, the romantic rhythm cobblestone rumbler

We be in colonial volcanic city,
Quantum cryptography physicist Hilel,
We brothers are muy similare,
Searching for the same thang,
Our purpose,
Looking inside for our personal Legend,
Lover language learners,
Espanol es sexy y es muy necessary,
For a connection in the land of Mayan highland gift givers,
Why must we search endlessly,
May be it is not part of our path for now to be sharing it with another,
How we want it badly,
Desire dream destiny manifest,
Dave Matthews sings my delightful dilemma,
"Old and wise, you can't see what I can.
So I blindly, throw my faith, to the face,
of the next good thang that comes my way."
How he knows the truth of soo many our hearts,
Watch them burn and yearn to see the light,
To be shown the mirrored moon perfection,
That we are all deserving,
To be honored, seen, worshipped, loved, found
Come find me,
I know you seek the same thang as I,
Which town are you residing in,
A fellow traveller or perhaps back in the the Cruz,
Possibly here in Antigua in a lake side village,
Do we dream the same dreams,
Have we met in some train station,
Ticket in hand warrior wandering in the clouds,
Destined for opposite destination location expectations,
Patience wanes with the moon smiles,
But with a wax in motion we grow,
In the estrella indigo evening I search endlessly for you,
In the crowds of sea filled fish,
Waiting for a bite,
How patient and alluring is the bait I hope to hook you with,
Sitting by the lullaby wise river, waiting & floating downstream,
Singing sweet songs, of melodies pure and true,
Wishing this reaches a heart that is true'ue'ue,
Help heal this heart cold,
Forgive my fever,
For it brings on visions of such delicious dancing dervishes,
My truth is distorted in the smoke filled prayer ballrooms,
Now I will whirl wishes eternally until the music ends,
Or my body collapses from exhaustion,
With fine feathered feelers that use the winds of distant hum whistle beats,
To grant thermal current ochestrated operas,
Cause only the finest symphonies are worthy of our flapping flights of freshness,
For we ride funk waves that shake the floors of cloud fields,
Requiring tribute in sunshine smiles & thunderous lightning storm winks
That pass with the blink of father time's eyes,
See he has a slightly nervous tick,
So we must keep on,
Drinking a cup of medicine from volcanic spring witch doctor pharmicies,
A toast to you and all the songs played until we be.