Letras
Packed up my clothes my acoustic guitar
In the trunk of the Ford Galaxy
My father came out checked the oil and the air and said
Son you can always come home
My mother made a
Joke about being far away
Like i was soldier
Away at the war
Acted like I didn't notice
When she brushed away a small tear
Said son you'll be fine
Found the worlds tiniest beach bungalow
In the San Lorenzo tidal flats
The sea here is always so cold and so grey
The sun it doth rarely shines
I'll study hard
Get a good job
Come and meet my girl
She might make a good wife
Or daughter in law
I'll study hard
Get a good job
A technology company
Out somewhere near Moffet Field
When I went to go do my first job interview
Knew my suit it was cheap and out of style
And The man looked at me like I was
Trailer trash and I considered proving him right
The sea here is always so cold and so grey
And The sun it doth rarely shines
Found a job working down
Watsonville way on a farm
Packing produce in trucks
I met the boss
He was a geek
We got along
Soon he had me writing
DBase routines for the farm
I had a band
It was joke
Then it was not
We got some real gigs
In San Francisco
Went next door to
Old the grocery store
Bought some refried bean
And fresh tortillas
Heated them up on the
Flame of the stove
Whispered mom I'm living the life