Cold brass doorknob turns in my hand
|
I step off the deck worn smooth from the sand
|
The sun hits my face on the breeze I can taste the salt
|
|
The sky disappears in the blue of the sea
|
The beach like snow but it¡¯s hot on my feet
|
I¡¯m so far from there but I don¡¯t care I can see it all
|
|
Oh why are these memories picking me?
|
That pretty cotton dress and sand on your feet
|
There¡¯s waves in my heart and I can¡¯t even start to forget it
|
That memory is very pacific
|
|
You slip from your dress, and I change from my tux
|
We ran through the rice, waved goodbye, wished us luck
|
We¡¯re finally alone and we¡¯ve barely slept at all
|
|
I remember your hair in my hands on your face
|
Your head in my lap in the seat on the plane
|
And I woke you up to show you the blue ocean
|
|
Oh why are these memories picking me?
|
That pretty cotton dress and sand on your feet
|
There¡¯s waves in my heart and I can¡¯t even start to forget it
|
That memory is very pacific
|
|
We agreed to disagree
|
We agreed that I should leave
|
Blame it all on love gone wrong
|
And Mexico and being young
|
But now I know, that I never let go
|
|
Oh why are these memories picking me?
|
That pretty cotton dress and sand on your feet
|
There¡¯s waves in my heart and I can¡¯t even start to forget it
|
|
Ohhh why are these memories picking me?
|
That pretty cotton dress and sand on your feet
|
There¡¯s waves in my heart and I can¡¯t even start to forget it
|
That memory is very pacific
|
Oh my memory is very pacific
|
Yeah, pacific
|
Ohhh
|
Ooooo
|
|
-----------------
|
Pacific
|
| Granger Smith |
