Every time I hear a Jimmy Buffett song, I instantly wish I lived in a beachside trailer, making enough money selling seashell art to keep my boat in good repair.
I’d eat what I caught with my rod or my nets, and drink something cold from a can or the blender. I wouldn’t wear a shirt unless I was expecting company, and even then I wouldn’t bother buttoning it. I’d wake with the sunrise and laugh at the tourists with a circle of friends just like me.
Meet Me In Montauk 