(Simon/Bernier). . Blow... tropic wind.... Sing a song... through the trees.. . Trees... sigh to me.... Soon my love... I will see.. . Poinciana,. Your branches speak to me of love..
Bo! Boom bye bye, hip-hop will never die. Despite the fact that I'm fly I'm never dry. You could beat me, cheat me, when you meet me try to defeat me.
I want to call a request through heating vents,. And hear them answered with a whispered no,. To crack the code of muscles slack and tense,. Let every second step in boots on snow,.
Poinciana, your branches speak to me of love. Pale moon is casting shadows from above. Poinciana, somehow I feel the jungle heat. Within me, there grows a rhythmic, savage beat.