Wall of Cold

I like to go on vacation
where there's a lot of surf and sun.
I like to put on the sunblock
and bake until I'm done.
But the best is going back to the room
(I treasure it as gold),
And opening up the hotel door
and feeling the wall of cold.

I've been to the jungles of Panama,
and seen lots of birds and such.
I've been to Costa Rica where
the bugs are just too much.
I've skied in Utah, laid on the beach,
gone wherever my life has rolled.
But the greatest thing about any trip
is feeling the wall of cold.

I've seen dart frogs in the rainforest,
and sailed on the ocean blue.
I've rafted in West Virginia, and
visited old Yellowstone, too.
Visited Mickey and all of his friends,
where joy is so uncontrolled.
But the thing I like best at the end of the day
is feeling the wall of cold.

England, Germany, Holland and Wales.
Ireland and Belgium and France.
I've seen them all and had a great time,
And even had some romance.
Caught some games at the old Yankee park
With joy that I could not withhold.
But the greatest of these was turning the key
and feeling that wall of cold.

I've climbed a volcano on the Big Island
and bungeed in Charlotte, NC, too.
I've ridden some roller coasters
and driven without a clue.
I'd do them all again someday.
I say it loud and bold.
'Cause anywhere you go is great
if you can just feel the wall of cold.

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