Wouldn't be July without this little chestnut from the past. 16 years ago, to be vaguely exact. I think I wrote it at the Pit, an old renegade beach in Long Branch that's a beehive of condos now. A lot of partying went on there. It's about sponging, smoking a joint with friends, sunburn, hooking up and night swimming. The memories are getting as hazy as that summer.
I was so Coldplay before there ever was a Coldplay. Having stated that, I'm still ahead of the game.
July’s Hazy Motives
So, on one white hot day,
shelled by enduring haze,
We elicit one last coherent breath.
A sweet peace breeze duels our lungs
as we fall deep into simmering apathy.
On the simmering sunset of a white hot day
cool tension flies with the wind.
Hazy convincing glances offer clues of a place to seek.
Quietly, we leap through another day.
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