Never trust a Florida boy,
In that muggy, humid heat.
I'm telling you, little girl,
Your heart will soon taste defeat.
Them deep fried southern marshes,
Raising mosquitoes and deceit.
The greatest place on earth can keep its ******* receipt.
The air as thick as my blood was,
When I met your eyes.
And yours met hers,
And your monster claw,
Tore her smooth skinned thigh.
I felt that painful scream.
Boiling up. Melting my chest inside.
What's the point of being still while my mind is feeling fried?
So I packed my heavy load of anxiety,
And headed for the coast.
I watched the orange sunset,
As I brought up a salty toast,
From my eyes.
Solemnly, spilling into the sea.
And I felt the spirit of an old friend.
Leaning rigidly against me.
So I turned on heel and didn't speak a sound.
As I turned to leave the now known ghost town.
And I gave one last grim look back out at the sea.
As I write these tattered goodbyes,
To where my feet have rambled me,
And I let my tongue wrap around the ribbons of goodbye,
Escaping my parched lips.
And I shutter as I listen to the sound of my heart as it rips,
An angered storm of sea,
Flooding down my eyes.
Knowing this is where the memories of escapades in our days, lays down and dies.
I feel the faint.
Bleak pain, blanketing us,
Weak and weary.
And I know our story has a melancholy mood of dreary.
And this is where I end it.
And cast it all out to sea.
And I leave the tragic bays of what I once called Rosemary.
Sometimes its best to walk on.
