Surfers ain't shoebies.
Converse don't need socks.
Tattered shoreline rush
Hour at the docks.
Forecast wakes you up.
The wind steers your car.
The flags lead you home
Beneath a morning star.
Seawater coursin'
Through 'n through your veins,
Fill your hungry eyes with pink sunrise
And whitewater manes.
Who knows how you manage
To find the same square patch
Of long beach every single day
You come for your (fishless) catch.
Set down the faithful board.
Set to work with wax.
Set it 'gainst your shoulders and
Nothing can set you back.
Jetty, your old partner,
Barnacles and rust,
In God you put your testament,
But jetty has your trust.
Slap it twice for luck before
The final first kick-off.
Waves come rumbling in,
By valley, crest, and trough.
And finally you face it
At long loving last.
Ultramarine paradise.
Whitewashed. The storm is past.
Moving mosaic masterpiece.
Frigid desert seething.
You've seen it swallow down whole shores.
Today it's only teething.
Time doesn't exist out here.
Rules ain't gonna fly.
Danger melts away to peace
As worry drifts on by.
