I am fifty now. Been out here in the dirt building casinos and working at places were they blow up bombs in the desert till the jack rabbits have night vision eyes. Creating other folk's dreams while mine have been waking me up in the middle of the night.
I remember the rigs of Corpus Christi Bay, I worked them from three to midnight, drank the sun up and slept the day away. My dreams are haunted by gas fires on the water and drinking on white sandy beaches and chasing girls from Houston down on the bay.
If I could live my life over, I would go back and never leave the Corpus Christi Bay. Now I am pulling wire in the Mojave sweating on a beach with damn few girls and no water. Yeah if I could live my life over, it wouldn't matter any way I couldn't stay sober on the Corpus Christi Bay.
I went to bed last night in my trailer with the wind blowing and the grit peppering my windows . A red headed woman with a soft smile and a six pack of Pearl asked me to take her to the water. We made love under a rising moon. I woke up with the taste of sea salt in my mouth and a heart breaking longing for home.
Living on the road my friend it's damn difficult to stay sober and clean. Been tramping long enough my skin is rough like iron and my breath's like kerosene. And yet the farther I go the more I want to come home. I keep hearing the guide wires on the derrick moaning in a high wind.
So my brothers don't be surprised if you find me someday dead in a man camp on a project out in the back of beyond; I made sure to leave some money under my mattress so you could send my ashes back to Corpus Christi Bay.
Find a nice spot in the sea oats and dump me out on the grass and pour a Pearl or an Ice Cold Jax over my mortal remains and think of me when you look out to sea. Give my regards to the boys down at the hall and send my money to LU-278 2301 Saratoga Ave, Corpus Christi, TX 78417.