So I lied. I'm a liar. Bitch as I may about how I feel stifled by my surroundings, my lack of money and how I feel I'm bound for greatness and nothing short of traveling for the rest of my life can make me complete, at the end of the day when I lay in bed I really miss Bradenton.

When I really think about it, it's the only place I want to live. Taking Cortez out to the beach and going north seeing what I believe is the last true blue collar beach town on the west coast of Florida. Or drive south and see some of the whitest sand in the entire world and coquina shells everywhere. A downtown that's not getting any bigger, my house that's minutes from the beach, the fucking smell of orange peels because they make Tropicana orange juice a few miles away.

Sure there's no jobs, and there are 3 cars for ever 1 person, but fuck I love it.

I could move to Copenhagen, and be happy and I'd still miss that tiny beach town, I can't get over it like how you can't get over your ex's, you just want to go back to them, it's all you know.

I could go to New York and maybe be happy, being an anonymous mess and I'd still want to go back and live in the old house I grew up in.

Listen, I'm DYING to see what's out there, the entire world, but like an addict I always come back to fucking Bradenton. And here's the deal, I don't want to feel this way, I envy people who feel like they can just moved city to city hanging out and never coming home.

I hate myself for what I haven't accomplished.










Fountains and flourescent lights.
When season has come
the snowbirds have crowded the nights.
And old townies are tired
of the beaches and bars
being packed so tight.
And bridges, and traffic, and inlets,
are locked in their fight.

And on these boats,
ride the hopes of working class boys,
dreaming of girls, from far away points.
And better things. Like winter flings.
And longing after spring has sprung.
And they fly north when winter's done.
And we get burned in summer's sun.

Fountains and fluorescent lights.
When season has come
the snowbirds have crowded the nights.
And young townies and tourists
find unlikely love at first sight.
And swear that they're never leaving
and that is their plight.

This winter is lasting forever,
at least for tonight.
And I know that you're never leaving,
until your flight,
takes you off,
and out of my arms,
and into the air,
so far from your charms,
that I can not bare,
another year,
in this long forgotten beach town,
we once shared.

This winter is lasting forever,
at least for tonight.
And I know that you're never
leaving me again.
No, not again.