Trout Fishing in America Almost September Letras:
Moonlight shines on the water.
I can see it from the beach house deck.
Cool breeze coming off of the
Gulf of Mexico, aloe vera for my
sunburned back.
Walked on the beach in the brown sugar sand.
Felt like walking in an hourglass.
Seashells, sand dollars, pick up
memories as the good times pass.
It’s almost September.
There’s a change in the wind.
It’s almost September.
Never gonna be this way again. No, no.

Salt spray in the hot afternoon.
Mullet jump in Galveston Bay.
Feel the waves, the heart of the ocean.
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It’d be so easy to get carried away.
On a towel eating sandy sandwiches
watching the beach parades.
Old men with beer-bellies and faded
tattoos, young girls behind those
dark, dark shades.
It’s almost September.
You can feel it in the wind.
It’s almost September.
Never gonna be like that again. No, no.

Sea gulls dive into diamonds.
Oil rigs decked out like Christmas trees.
A man ‘o war cuts like a sail through the surf.
Baby oil gets the tar from the bottom of my feet.
The sun posed for a final postcard.
Lit a campfire and sang some songs.
Hot dogs and cold ice cream might just be
perfect but it don’t last long.
It’s almost September.
There’s a change in the wind.
It’s almost September.
Will it ever be like that again? No, no.
Letras: Almost September Trout Fishing in America [final]