The Colorado Kid
We took the morning by storm
Just another day in Maine
Until we met the Colorado Kid
He sat back on the beach
Holding remains of his death
His blue lips showed his last breath
Seagulls on the whim
Never knowing him
Picking up his last meal
Showing off his muscles
Never looking back
Kicking buckets till his last
Authorities never pleased
Can’t we identify him?
No more clues for the Eldorado
A pack of smokes in his breast
Autopsy shows the lungs clean
But they were bought from Colorado
A long way from his babe
She came a year right after
She saw his face in the paper
A good job and nice house
Why would he leave his life there?
Traveling worlds meeting his maker.
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