we drove down to the end of the world and we walked for a while in the purple sand
we were told that it would be cold, that our gloves would be worthless to warm our hands

we were inspired to make the long drive after seeing a painting of who lived there
big and small, they were feathered and all of them diving for fish in the frozen air

how did they do it? how did they leave everything behind and inch through the night?
could I say to myself that I'd do the same thing? hitch a ride through the fog and the ice

we looked high and low for a soul, there was no one around to be seen for miles
but there in the drift lay a silhouette stiff as a board. it had been there for quite some time.

one dead seal is your host in Montauk. Montauk is a ghost.
one cold coast is at most an odd landmark. Montauk is a ghost.

past the living postcards past the people inside them at work and warm
past the big duck and the woman inside reading tabloid trash wating to go home

A lighthouse sits at the end of the world looking down at the restaurant and wondering why
no one's around except for me and my friend in this place where ice cream falls from the sky

we will live here we will fashion a house out of timber and stone
we will put up a sign that reads "we are happy now leave us alone"

we were far away from the car as the sun started drowning itself in the brine
and there in the drift was that figure still stiff as a board. it was watching us the whole time