Get the move on, I’ll pack a lunch. Tell my mom that we can fit a bunch more in her car. See if she’s cool using my car.
I can drive so fast I turn hands into airplane wings, oh the things that life’s made of-- they seem so made up.
Everything seems better by the seaside, with the sand and sun in your eyes you’re blinded dumb. And the fire hits the water and the sky turns red and it doesn’t matter what was said when days are done. Well, let’s have some fun.
I’ve been thinking about the day, but you’ve been chasing the thoughts away. Well not together all of those thoughts will stay out on a beach in the half moon bay.
The old familiar 84, it still drives like it did before, when we’d come out here in the summer-- when we’d come back through with a sunburn and I’d kiss you while Scott took the wheel because I knew just how it’d make you feel. Our wonder years ring like thunder across other years. It’s no wonder that everything seems better by the seaside on a beach in the Half Moon Bay