twelve - at last

camber

Under the seagulls’ ugly scream
We live out a summer dream
Twisting our toes in the damp, sticky sand
Grit in our mouths and dirt on our hands



Brilliant smiles and crafty wiles
Boys with blue eyes that wink and beguile
Hands that pinch bums and fingers that strum
Out a new tune under the lumbering sun



Pictures of boats in greasy spoons, then
Loved-up and luscious under the moon
Then back in the car when the rain pisses down
Never a moment that gets you down


Not wining and dining but beering and leering
Appreciative looks write a passionate book
Tans and Ray-Bans and light beams that scan
Every wide-open eye on the white open sand



We are the lords of our domain
With glory and beauty on the brain
We are free, we are proud, in the echo of sound
Holding our breath till the next summer round


We are fish in the sea
This is our sea, our sea
Though it stinks and its brown
with things floating around
We are the shiny shells on the sand
This is our land, our land, our landnd