“Hair blowing in the hot wind Time hanging from a clothespin There’s no sorrow that the sun’s not gonna heal I smell the leather of your new car Drive through the desert after nightfall Sleep on the shoulder, keep the stars all to ourselves”
“Haul the sheet in as we ride on the wind that our Forefathers harnessed before us. Hear the bells ring as the tide rigging sings. It’s a son of a gun of a chorus.”
Bring Limes
Bring Limes is dedicated to beaches, bonfires, vagabonds, and doing what you love.
