Get-Well-Cards

All the peacock people left their plumes in a pile
They look good to a fault
And the Gulf water's warm like a bathtub
Full of lavender and epsom salt

See a bleach blond boy put his longboard down
Help his girl get her sunscreen on
I thought about you in your little house
Think you're lonely but I could be wrong and . . .

I want to be your bootlegger
Want to mix you up something strange
Braid your hair like a sister
Name you like a hurricane

Right there, that's the postman sleeping in the sand
He's got a letter to deliver, but I can't stay mad
Right there, that's the postman sleeping in the sand
He's got a get-well-card to deliver
He's going to do it by hand, he's going to do it by hand

Now they drive the cars up and down the beach
It's ridiculous and everybody knows
Hear the Mustangs rev at the four way stop
You get ghosted when the light says go

But in a town like this, in the chequered flag dawn
It's so empty you could make somebody dream
So maybe it's you, in your four-post bed
Sound asleep but still grinding your teeth and . . .

I want to be your happiness
I want to be your common sense pain
Wrap your head in a picket fence
Rebuild after the hurricane

Right there, that's the postman sleeping in the sand
He's got my letters to deliver, but I'm still not mad
Right there, that's the postman sleeping in the sand
He's got a get-well-card to deliver
He's going to do it by hand
He's going to do it, he's going to do it
He's going to do it, he's going to do it
He's going to do it, he's going to do it by hand

Oh, right there, that's the postman sleeping in the sand
He's got a letter to deliver, but I can't stay mad
Right there, that's the postman asleep in the sand
He's got a head stack now to deliver
He's wants to do it by hand
He's going to do it, he's going to do it
He's going to do it, he's going to do it
He's going to do it, he's going to do it
He's going to do it, he's going to do it by hand