My heart’s in the sand
of warm and welcoming land.
If this is Neverland, then I am Pan
with a bucket of beer in hand.
I sit where the palm trees grow
and where the sounds of cities are low.
I bathe in the rays and wash in the shallow
where bikinis lay and the fishes follow.
My heart misses the sand
because it’s in dirt and life is not grand.
I left the buildings for vacant land
and there’s no concert, only a local band.
I look at my past and makes me woe
because I miss those sands so
and how I long to feel its touch with my toe.
When will I see the sands gain, I do not know.
I like to think that those sands miss my heart
and feels the same pain of being apart.
Apart from the independent music and art.
I traded the smell of ocean breeze for a musty mart.
The sands have always been a show
with the nights that give off a unique glow.
My heart sinks in this dirt and buried below
because it’s littered with worms and I want to go.
The dirt is poison and it’s up to my eyes.
A life for me here is impossible even if I try
because I’m not that kind of person who can lie.
My heart’s in the sand, where I wish to die.