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.