It’s lonely and it’s timeless. Those shores of sink or swim.
With memories playing volleyball, it’s either her or him.
He said he could remember the day that he was born.
There was a slap, a light so bright and an oath that he had sworn.
It’s how they get er done down there, the fiddler he gets paid.
The dancers are all worn out from the sacrifices made.
I dropped by for a visit, just to see who I might know.
The graveyards are all manicured with grass that’s green and low.
Now she travels with me. That much was a plan.
I tell her all the stories from those shores that house her clan.