The Great Laketown by Matthew Milia

I once had me a good-looking, God-fearing
Girl from the hills in the dusk
But the sawdust and lakerust from those days were nearing
An end, so the locals don’t trust us

But they are just locals, and locals are rude
The drifter knows more though his expression is crude
And I’m a little bit of both though, I’m not merely one

And everyone’s a local
And everyone’s a local
And everyone’s a local, depending on where you’re from

The girls from the town walked up to my house one night
As the buried sun slowly went down
Their clothes were the shouting of pathos in moonlight
I felt shame and slowly looked down

Pleasure has a pretty face
Helplessness voices and salt-teary taste
But true pleasure has no eyes

And how could I see now?
Where would I be now?
Would I be free now without those eyes?

Us children were raised in hills that are landlocked
But we hear the sounds of out of view waves
The logs that were stacked against the house clanked and they knocked
But the wind is trying to behave

Innocence was lost on the most
And is now washed away like our burial coast
But not all the sand can leave you too soon

And what could I count on?
What could I count on?
What could I count on, if I can’t trust our dune?

They’re calling our lives from the North hidden waters
They’re calling our lives from the South, East, and West
They’re calling our lives out like half-broken daughters
When terror arrives to their sharp-bitten chest

This ain’t the only damned town I’ve been in
This ain’t the only lifetime I’ve run thin
The sky is a liar that I aim to steal

‘Cause I’m just a local
I’m just a local
I’m just a local, thirsting for something real