I don't need Ocean, I don't need the tides
Don't need to pick up seashells with their blue undersides
I don't need the pier with it's fisher-folk and wind
Or the surfers doing switchbacks in their zipped up skin
Or the illusion the horizon can be breached
In Ocean Beach

I don't need pretty; real will do
Like the faces at the Jungle, on Newport Avenue
I don't need the bark of the seals in the night
Or the shadow of the sailboat on a twisting flight
I'm doing fine - 3,000 miles - to the east
From Ocean Beach

I don't need to see you these walls keep me warm
But these icy months in Boston have left me weatherworn
Was it just last May that I was there if feels like centuries
The last thing I need is these memories.

I don't need strangers, led around by dogs
Or the liquored up paper bags with their monologues
And I don't need the Olive Tree with its smells of gourmet sins
Or the encyclopedic barber knows every movie that's ever been
Or the chance that again you and I might meet
In Ocean Beach

I don't need Ocean, I don't need the tides
Don't need to pick up seashells with their blue undersides
I don't need the pier with its fisher folk and wind
Or the surfers doing switchbacks in their zipped up skin
I'm doing fine, most of the time I'm at ease
without Ocean Beach