Enemy of the State???

After too many people asked me if our government was going to treat me as an "enemy of the state", or, in the parlance of our times, "an enemy combatant", this little ditti burst forth one recent afternoon.

Guantanamo Bay

If I disappear, you can send my mail to Guantanamo Bay.
I hear it’s nice in the winter, but hell in the summer,
I know there’s a beach, but the place is a bummer,
The meals are on trays (if you get them),
And the sweat-box pays (if you let them).
So if I vanish without a trace, you can send my mail to Guantanmo Bay.

I hear there are pretty girls who roll a cigar, or one in the hay,
but I won’t see either one, in Guantanamo Bay.
They have a water sport that I don’t want to play,
but I don’t think they’ll ask me, in Guantanamo Bay.

The Caribbean’s calling, and my governments a bawlin’
The words I’ve got to say, don’t turn out their way.
So if I miss my place a dinner,
You’ll know its somethin’ sin’ster.
Just take my bills to pay and whatever comes my way,
And forward all my mail, down to Guantanamo Bay.