I've got sand in my shoes And the smell of barbeque Lingers in the air. There's a violet behind my ear And mascara tears on my face. My eyes are closed against The light wind that's blowing, And there's a seagull in the sky. 'Beautiful day' you tell me, But there's nothing here For me to see... I wrote this last summer, and of course, Lem, can you tell it's about Matthew? Of course, it's always about him.