Two and two is four
Double what you need
I got you girl
You got me
Ah poor boy, treads on the beach
Sea at your knees
Sky within reach
Wind on your back
Sun in your face
Yeah coast boy
End of the world
Hey good girl, feet on the beach
Salt in your hair
Sand on your knees
Tears in your eyes
Smile on your face
Yeah coast girl
End of the world
She got gold, her old soul
He got ink
His hard skin
They got breath
Warm in their throats
Here we are
End of the world
There’s this little green town on the East coast
Where work all gets lost in the cloudy smoke
There’s a tan on the beach if you’re visiting
It still comes with cheap chips and ice cream
Every day the sun lifts the darkness
Breaking memories anchored in some trawling past
No crowds fill the streets, they’re in online
Gossiping or gaming over flat wine
Books banked in dust pad the library
While shops stocked in staple brands of jewellery
Alternate with smoking miscellany
As broad across as sacred is our greenery
When you pass by, and you will, don’t be afeared
The East coast is not the place it used to be
As calm and cool as any burg is wont to be
A little slower true, but aren’t we meant to be
