Postcard - The Lucksmiths

Dear Shane

I write to you from the Mediterrane

Our hotel room overlooks a small island

That has a volcano in the middle of it

Steep dramatic cliffs surround the bay

And I can see the moon in the day

Truth is, I’m tired

Even the sunrise looks old

I don’t want to tell you

But you have to be told

Don’t take it too hard

Sorry to tell you on a postcard

There’s no easy way to say

Your grandfather passed away

Mourn with me

How fickle is the funny side

May seem lower than the lowest tide

But you only touch the hotplate for so long

It’s better to become candle wax than to burn on

Besides, he left us in good golfing form

Three days ago he hit five pars

Take care now, love Grandma

And P. S

Love this life

And P.P.S

Love this life