The Girl from Ipanema

What can I tell about her?
She's not tall nor she is really tanned, her drowsiness walk in the morning
isn't one for the catwalk, aww, how I wish to see her walking from the sea towards me
One thing for sure, she is damn lovely, even in her woman's days �"if you know what I mean�"
When she walks down the hall her swing is not that of a samba, it's more complex
Perhaps blues with touches of Bossa Nova
If only she was unknown, if only she was only for contemplation. silly me
Great greave comes to the hearts of those who talk to her, hopelessly trying to suffice the unsustainable]
And the pain when she waves goodbye?
With a heart-shattering warm smiles I, we, they fall prey to her paradoxical perfection.