Bright Blue

The water crashes pon' the damp moist sand

The hot fall day seems to scorch the soft ground.

My friends and I dawdle on rocks and land.

People coming we don't create a sound.

Pink fogs hide the oceans of november.

The clouds eclipse the sun yet it's still bright.

No place on earth can be a contender,

And autumntime has the meteorite.

We pack our bags for the plane ride morrow'

I wish we could have fallen far behind.

The plane ride home came with a great sorrow,

As Mexico was fading in my mind.

Now our trip has come to a halting close,

A shame that it is when we need it the most.