The Well

I was tired of fighting for my place in the sun,
With the chance of success just a million to one
I heard of a place not far from the city hum
Where life marches to a different drum
And worry and stress are assigned to oblivion.

Where fisherman talk of mud crab and jack,
Enthralled by their harvest from Neptun’s dominion
You know you’re near ‘cause of the sugar mill stack
As you half crack a joke about the midges attack
And calling it Paradise is more of a fact than opinion.

Forget that elusive dream you chase,
Allow the simple things to define your existence
Come home to The Well, escape the race
Oh, I know it’s not a perfect place
Yet it comes as close as makes no difference.

(Olaf Tiemann)