Balboa Park - Matt Costa

The man next to me

His mother, she lives on Lake Michigan

He hasn’t seen her in about eight years and he

Wonders about Lake Michigan

The girl next to him

She was a dancer but now her legs don’t work like they used to

She married a fireman

Gonna be here in the station on the south side of Lake Michigan

Walking through Balboa Park again

The architecture always makes me sad

Now I’m sitting between a Navy man

Their sunburnt skin and dark dews of

The great lakes while one mother’s in the sunset years in Indiana

Beneath the shady tree

Mother is passing a newborn baby

Nearby the fountains are endlessly spurting

Two thousand miles away from Lake Michigan

Walking through Balboa Park again

The architecture always makes me sad

Now I’m sitting between a Navy man

Their sunburnt skin and dark dews of

The great lakes while one mother’s in the sunset years in Indiana

People

It’s a nonsense…

There is a boy, he’s riding a bike

He’s wearing a black tie with black trousers

Handing out flyers, trying to change him

Trying to persuade my opinions

Walking through Balboa Park again

The architecture always makes me sad

Now I’m sitting between a Navy man

Their children and their wives with them

The man next to me

His mother, she lives on Lake Michigan