The Beach

There's a hole in the roof And the rain's coming down The roads are flooded There's no way back to town And the ship we came in on Has just run aground You know fate has a funny way Of coming around The memories we've buried Have just taken seed When springtime comes They'll turn into weeds And they'll creep through your window To smother your dreams You know fate has a funny way Of coming around Oh, they'll carve our names like scripture To the soles of our feet Each footprint that they take It will tell of our beat Till the night of the following rain Till the low tide comes to swallow pain This bottle of bourbon, Now dry as a bone, It drank us all up Then it left us alone Well we've since switched to skull pot But we can't choke it down You know fate has a funny way Of coming around --- The Beach - Dr. Dog