The sky in puerto, black and white
The colors of a cloudy night
The outline of the ropes on light
Brings distance to the shore in sight
A crash of water, rock and sand
The moth clicks, bothers, tapping fan
Then stomps the penthouse, business man
They clink their drinks, one more they can
The tires hum
The night is young
And in my bed I feel the rum
Oh let me sleep
My throat is weak
And now I know I've reached my peak.
