Hot sand on toes, cold sand in sleeping bags, I’ve come to know that memories, were the best things you ever had. The summer shone beat down on bony backs. So far from home where the ocean stood, down dust and pine cone tracks.
We slept like dogs down by the fire side. Awoke to the fog where all around us; the bloom of summertime. We stood steady as the stars in the woods. So happy-hearted and the warmth rang true inside these bones. As the old pine fell we sang, just to bless the morning.
Hot sand on toes, cold sand in sleeping bags. I’ve come to know the friends around you are all you’ll always have. Smoke in my lungs, or the echoed stone, careless and young, free as the birds that fly, with weightless souls now.