We watched the sunset at San Clemente
We smoked cigars and aspirated Pixi-Stix
The path down to the beach was paved except for the bottom
My brother slipped and landed flat on his back
My mom had plastic lemons on her sunhat
She said it was the style but I don’t know
One night my cousin threw a rock through the train window
The cops were flooding all down onto the beach
My chest was scratched from my red wave raft
The tops of my ankles matched the raft
Our whole vacation party should lose a few
And people glanced at us from behind intellectual novels
At night I’d drift off as car headlights would shine through the canvas
And I could hear night exercises at the base
Somebody’s radio playing off in the distance
“Brandy, what a fine wife you would be.â€