Get the move on, I’ll pack a lunch.
Tell my mom that we can fit a bunch
more in her car.
See if she’s cool using my car.

I can drive so fast
I turn hands into airplane wings,
oh the things that life’s made of--
they seem so made up.

Everything seems better by the seaside,
with the sand and sun in your eyes
you’re blinded dumb.
And the fire hits the water
and the sky turns red
and it doesn’t matter what was said
when days are done.
Well, let’s have some fun.

I’ve been thinking about the day,
but you’ve been
chasing the thoughts away.
Well not together
all of those thoughts will stay
out on a beach in the half moon bay.

The old familiar 84,
it still drives like it did before,
when we’d come out here in the summer--
when we’d come back through with a sunburn
and I’d kiss you while Scott took the wheel
because I knew just how it’d make you feel.
Our wonder years ring like thunder
across other years. It’s no wonder
that
everything seems better by the seaside on a beach in the Half Moon Bay