|I’ve never seen it rain like this in the ten years I’ve been living here.
I haven’t tasted salt on my skin since I don’t know.
'Cause here’s not like the once there, the road map in my rear view, the back home, the down home.
I was the youngest child. I was the crazy one. I was the one who got away.
All my life lines, they broke down on that shoreline.
No one listens to the yearning on the gold coast of the Long island Sound.
You were the wiser, so silent with your daughter, you never asked, “Where have you been?”
Patiently waiting to pull me out and save me because I’m drowning again.
Cause I was willing to try out anything just to get out.
I didn’t care if I was a neon sign.
But for years I’d listen to the fog horn in the distance from my bedroom
calling out the mystery of the Sound.
I was the last on the wire, godspeed to nowhere at all
I was coming up, growing up and leaving home
leaving nothing I’d ever known
for nothing I’d ever known
like nothing I’d ever known
That’s water now behind us, passed on like an ice age years ago
And the things I remember, they’re changing like the shoreline of the Harbor, Cold Spring
Like the Man-O-Wars between us, walking through the mine field, step lightly
They’ll never make it back home to their blue home cause the tide’s out and the blue’s brown, what’s left of the Long Island Sound.
I am hope.