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Marc Douglas Berardo
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The Rum Diary
This island is a steaming trap
full of palms and poets and thieves
this bar is full of rum soaked hacks clinging on to what is left of what they believe
me, i was another runaway
i just left one day to right it all down
but my plans got stuck in the sand and my dreams never got off the ground
in the search for the great one, it is i who has not found
a way to capture the fury and the sound
shadowboxing the muse
here among the burned out and used
at the end of a very short fuse
while the time slips away
Drifting on the breeze they got the steely dan and the ceiling fan is turning in time
and whenever i hear that song
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i scheme about stealing the best lines
but when this glow fades away, i'm will sleep under mosquito net
and as far as the best laid plans
i'm bound to forget, i always bound to forget that
in the search for the great one, it is i who has not found
a way to capture the fury and the sound
shadowboxing the muse
here among these burned out and used
at the end of a very short fuse
while the time slips away
while the time just slips away
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