SURFER'S LULLABY is the First Draft of Lyrics for Brian W., who wrote a really gentle music called Surfer's Lullaby, that has sweet waltz-sort-of beat...he want lyrics for it that will match the visuals as well: a beach at twilight, with surfers and their people sitting around the fire telling stories of their days on the curls of their own personal waves....here is one story...to match the around five minutes of music he wrote to calm and soothe at the end of a fine day in the Sea....

SURFER'S LULLABY


My Brah was a Gray who loped down to the Sea -
He didn't run bombs and he didn't ice waves...
He just followed lulls out and then took the curls home...
But he was a legend whose stories ya crave....

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So rockabye 'Legend' all out on Big Mama
Rockabye out there at sea
You took home your last wave
You came to some bottom
And proud on your Balsa
The waves keep you free

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Flatlanders don't have a clue what we're doin' -
They stare at us there while we're rollin' and tubin' -
They point at our cold bodies dredgin' and grindin'...
They laugh at the Grey while they're clappin' for me...

He's not doin' 360s, and he's not there paradin' -
He's just soul surfin' and rollin' some more...
He is just as knarly as any dude can be -
Not payin' no mind to the shore....
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When he was a young dude he was pretty crazy:
He lived on the beach - just a surf gypsy man...
Tight's how he lived and he lived for the tribe...
The Bon-fires high on the sands - o yeah -
Most everyone high on the sands....

He had a chick - she was his babelini...
He loved that woman like he loved the Sea...
But he loved the Dawn Patrol better than lovin'
And in them sweet caves was where he went to be....
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He'd shout "comin' down" more than all of the others:
Them 50s and 60s guys still in their wetsuits...
I swear that I saw that Gray up on a Cloud Nine
For over five seconds 'for it washed away....

Yeah, that was his rep, my braws, he was a Master -
An' down the line - on the line - he was a King...
Goin' deep for them waves up on his Balsa:
You could believe he once ran everything....
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One dawn a radical Pipeline was formin':
We all got to see them waves: square, steep and hollow...
Alot'a dudes stood with their boards and just looked at em...
Wild Barrels too crunchy to even be real....

Our Grey stood and watched em there right along-side us...
He said, "Well young dudes, hit some zen state-a-mind...
Cuz I'm goin' in and I'm shoutin' those curls -
And if I ain't dish-ragged, I'm ridin' em lone..."

We shouted "Allright dude!" and went out there scratchin' -
Paddlin' like mad men to get to that pipeline -
Our 'Legend' was out there just scratchin' and whistlin' -
Headin' between the sets out there to roam....

Well, then he jazzed the glass, like they said in his day -
Knew what to do out there, deep in his bones - but...
When he crashed into sand hard from those shorebreakers,
He was caught in a fishnet...but still came home...
Cuz he was a 'Legend'...Legends make it home....
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I jus' hope when I'm a grey like our 'Legend'
I'll be as hopelessly brave on my board:
That I will take Killer Waves tho I am ache-in' -
Shoutin' "AKAW!" from that grand wave all'along...
Shoutin' "Grand, Dude!" all the way to the shore....
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