At night, beaches wash away
Moon bathing students
Adults wearing sunglasses
Townies showing disrespect
To the calmness, to the quiet
Stopping at petrol stations
On dark, twisty country roads
Pissing regardless of foliage
Yelling at anyone walking
The sleepy town streets after 1am
Where bars close at eleven
Rolling up my jeans to the knee
I’m wading towards
France or Ireland
Geography hard to recall
After a skinful of lager
Light breaks through
Someone drives us home
But not before, we leave
Our Mark in the sand