I can't get the sand out of my shoes
This being in Florida's done a number on my blues
Just the way the women walk round here
It's plain to see the way the sand and the sea have done a number on me
And the sky is threatening black and gray and the sun is a festering red
And her head is claiming her stats; she ain't yet risen from bed
So breakfast again delayed, postponed, I wont be fed

The surf has swallowed him up, he's a memory now
And the water's warmer than it has been in weeks
Grandma lives just down the road, she's making supper for me tonight
She's been nice to me since '73 when her sun lost his lights
And now his ghost is a rising host above the briny blur
I would that soon some maid would swoon and his soul would capture her
He's still a fine kid, what with all that he did, he's a fan of mine

I wasn't planning to spend so long in town
But the break in the weather has got the partner down
She won't get out, she's shotgun, seems she's sewn to the seat
It's a dirty old trick that I've yet to lick and she's yet to beat
You can see it in her eyes, she was born unwise, she was born for me
If she mourns too long I'll know something's wrong and I'll leave her be
You can tell by his shoes he was born to lose, he was born for me


Lyrics submitted by thepowercut

West Palm Beach song meanings
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