A shower of rain it pours down my shoulders. As it should have done before. It soaks through the raincoat and takes the plain red stripes right off my sweater. Oh the tide it ebbs and flows with the healing power of a tear, A tear longing only for something to better the next But the current sweeps rolling in as the rocks cry out, Buried deep within the gut wrenching fear, Of a lost generation of Nick Adams and Gatsby's. That serves no purpose, yet winds tales everlasting. Sheets drown out the days of a bright Spanish countryside. I've never been there but I've read of the summertime.
"Todo parece bien como siempre pero yo no quiero eso." But that's from a friend who's nearing the end. So don't let the tide roll in on the beach, For each new wave pushes back the release. Although oceans are endless the sands encompa** more than the eye can see, Except the one eye that sees right through me. And it's one more page of a memory that's written for the world to see. In how that they can learn from past mistakes. But as waves crash down and the paper turns And with each new stroke of the pen we learn. That they will never make it past the first page.