Casablanca 36

A man from Morocco, he came to me in a dream
There was a house named Casablanca 36
A haunted vision of cascading vines, that I was to seek.
A blood-red orb burning in the sky
While silvery raindrops, they are fallen
And they slither down the feathery moss-green stones.
And I met a woman whose name was Fern
Precious, daunting, delicious at every turn
But I left that, her and her feminine wiles
On to the road, to seek out that house
That haunted vision of vines.