(Verse)
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Mama’s in the driving seat, daddy’s in the back,
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He’s not saying nothing no more, he’s covered with a sack .
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He’d been killing in the kitchen but juring a short low,
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Mama went and got the accent, drove it by all his scars.
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She’s left of anyone text, he buried in his pain,
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And on together in car we can catch the chain.
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My sister’s in the front with mom, bucket tense bay packed,
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I’m in the back with dad, I’m hoping he stays intact.
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Who’s huge face is here to give us a wicked rack?
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Ain’t dealing nothing no more, just hanging in the sack.
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And we reach in the seaside, it’s late in the day.
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One on each side we chose, we don’t have much time to play.
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Tracked daddy out on the beach and leave him in the sand,
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His stated eyes don’t see the skies, too late to understand.
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And when we go to the beach some days I hold on great,
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So I darken the steed, even the rest it seems outraged.
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Under a dirty he snares, a day comes in an act,
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Momma buys a sole ice cream, some things will just forget about.
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Days By The Seaside With Ice Cream
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| Southern Tenant Folk Union |
