Moonrise at the bottom of it, floats of sand.
Sea looks down for the ashtray, next to your hand.
Looking at the blue sky, turning blind
So I stumble the shoreline, he comes.
Roses in the trashcan, love life out of date,
Cheeks shining of the cheap lipstick,
Oh, what a waste.
Just in tunes of the radio blasting from the abandoned Jeep.
Somebody's out there where the waves break,
We remain.