Galveston sleeps under the frigid moonlight of a Texas March. Close to 40 degrees this morning. Nothing in Cork or Boston. It is dark and cold this early morning. Around the shipyard, various vermin were scampering around. Some chased by stray cats. Others chased by species of rodents much more feral than a ship rat.
Download BookThings Are Finally Going Our Way
How I sense this day
Things are going our way
Matters seem out of hand
Issues we cannot understand
The bad we see today
No one good ever stays
To see the bad times turn around
They jump on shore as soon
as they see ground
What is it we are trying to say
All our senses are wasting away
How I sense this day
Things are finally going our way
High on life today
Liquor doesn’t make me sway
Dreams are all we have
To keep us going round and round
Until our feet touch the ground
How I sense this day
Things are at last going our way
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