(And so it was
Three left lanes to the shore points
All roads lead to the shore points.)
Well we heard it on the highway
On our way down to the shore
It was broadcast with the immediacy
of a cannon blast from a battery
of the coast defense artillery
that exists no more.
Down the turnpike, down the parkway
In the lazy lethargy of an August day
Threading our way down 36 along the bay
We set off to explore.
Through all the Bayshore towns to Atlantic Highlands
Headed for the shifting sands and barrier islands
Atop Mt. Mitchill looking down at Sandy Hook
And across the bay at all the oppression we shook
With the wide-open ocean over open sights
Dazzled by the diamonds of the morning light
Exit 117
All roads lead to the shore points.
The wreckage of what once was lies hard and stark
What can be only moves in fits and starts
Born to run, glory days, and dancing in the dark
Everybody here has got a hungry heart
Waiting for the fire to be lit by the spark
In the still-struggling city of Asbury Park
Exit 102
All roads lead to the shore points.
Amusement piers in ethereal lights
Orbit through the summer like satellites
Droves of nascent heavy metalites
Wander the planks in search of noisy delights
To satisfy long restless reckless nights
In the endless parade of Seaside Heights
Exit 82
All roads lead to the shore points.
Barnegat (Light) and Loveladies, sea and sky
Harvey Cedars and Surf City, rent or buy
Ship Bottom and Beach Haven, both low and high
The parties are never in short supply
It lives for summer, that no one can deny
Long Beach Island, alias LBI
Exit 63
All roads lead to the shore points.
Gleaming, polished up, and pretty
Bumps butts with the down and gritty
Successful take-your-chancers all giddy
Thinking they beat the regulating committee
Oh Lord, on the losers have pity
Hypnotized by the lure of Atlantic City
Exit 40 and 38
All roads lead to the shore points.
Five mile beach with distractions aplenty
Like the above-named Seaside multiplied by twenty
All tacky chic and junkfood America
In sunbeaten libidinous never-neverland hysteria
A honky-tonk Shangri-La going back to many lost childhoods
In the doo-wop cheeze and boardwalk sleaze of the Wildwoods
Exit 4
All roads lead to the shore points.
At the very bottom of the GS Parkway
Where the ocean meets the mouth of Delaware Bay
On the southern tip of the state, there lay
A paradise of candyland palaces painted pretty and gay
Watch the brilliant sunset at the end of the long day
Drawn to the spiritual magnet of Cape May
Exit 0
All roads lead to the shore points.
We’ve taken this journey, now what does it all mean?
Is it all a blowing wind or a fleeting dream?
In a time when fear and terror dominate the scene
And the Great Creator’s name is co-opted or blasphemed
Such quests of the spirit are sure to seem
Superfluous, meaningless, and not worthy of esteem
No more exits
But
All roads lead to the shore points.
So here you have it—127 miles of strand
Vying for the position of this side’s holy land
A trek, a pilgrimage, was what was called for
To survey and claim this place we call the Jersey Shore
We’ve reached the land of dreams, with the help of The One
We can end the song, close the book, now the epic is done
Exits 11, 9, and 2; 117 through 0
All roads lead to the shore points.
©2024 The Hesh Inc.
This is the short version of a much longer lyrical travelogue describing my journeys and observations from one end of the Jersey Shore to the other and points beyond, as well as a farewell anthem to a long and eventful summer. It is to be the coup de grace, the finishing touch, the last hammer blow of my massive Soul In Exile opus, when I finally record it.
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