Sta.sh
hurricane (blues for the comeaux brothers)
In a lonely town, somewhere down on Beach Road 108
He parks his car at the Blue Marlin Bar, it's breakfast at a quarter to eight
It's been all night long, the coffee strong, haulin' nets aboard
It's a shrimper's life, can't afford a wife, it's barely room and board
She's a friendly smile, he's known her awhile, like a dozen more around
She asks him "what?" he says coffee "hot," and asks her to sit down
But no she can't, the boss is out back, "besides you know how people talk"
"This town likes sin, same story again, but it's changed when it hits the dock"
And late at night he sees Houston's lights as he churns across the bay
To take another chance he'll have to dance with a hurricane someday
And it's aboard that boat that his memories float to the loves that he has made
He remembers then another time when he didn't care whose heart he'd break
So hurry hurricane, blow these sins away
Heal these wounds, take these blues, someplace far away
Hurry hurricane, hurry hurricane, hurry hurricane, hurry hurricane
Some late summer week when the riggings squeak and a big storm is blowin' in
He figures he'll wait until it's too late to bring his treasured rustcan in
He'll beach her down on shallow ground about a quarter mile from the cut
And he'll wade on in, his back to the wind, and go untie that old red mutt
In the setting sun he'll make one last run and honk at the Blue Marlin Bar
And he'll wave goodbye to the secrets and lies and escape in that old rusty car
So hurry hurricane, blow these sins away
Heal these wounds, take these blues, someplace far away
Hurry hurricane, hurry hurricane, hurry hurricane, hurry hurricane
It was August '83 when word came at sea, big she-cane starin' at the coast
He let his nets run taut but had second thoughts when the first gales began to blow
He watched the parade the other fisherman made and wondered where he'd go
To hell he was sure, or Beaumont worse, and he pulled up and headed for home
So hurry hurricane, blow these sins away
Heal these wounds, take these blues, someplace far away
Hurry hurricane, hurry hurricane, hurry hurricane, hurry hurricane
Behind the beach, where the tides won't reach, he runs a seashell and coffee shop
The local ladies talk on their morning walk, but they always find time to stop
And they ask him again when the storm blew in how he almost left their town
And he talks of love and a voice from above and a boat stuck in shallow ground
So hurry hurricane, blow these sins away
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