When all the pieces fall away
and the precious night covers up the day
Who will sit and pass the time beside us
and hear the stories we kept inside us?
Remember when we walked to the ice house
and drank cold Big Red on the way back?
We went from one island of shade to the other.
Cicadas were the alien army
Van Halen was the soundtrack
Of all the days
in all these ways
those crappy beach chairs
on the porch,
were the thrones from which
we saw our future
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