It always was a part of me; the salt, the crashing of the sea.
Sandy toes part of the lure; waves big and small, they are the cure.
A seagull cries, my eyes they follow; he flies far off into tomorrow.
If only I could fly with him; leave the tasks of life so dim.
The sun it sets, all red and golden; treasure of this day a token.
Evening creeps upon once more; all is well when at the shore.