...and to know this all exists in a little place they call Provincetown
Where the salty bar connects with the hearty Atlantic is Provincetown.
A place with narrow streets and secret doorways that lead to string lighted Never Never Land.
It's true, when I was young I came here with some friends to an Artist's house.
The former Charles Hawthorne to be precise.
His land was littered in string lights that tappered from one strange building to the next.
It was how I imagined never never land to be.
I remember one path lead to this lit up space ship looking building, with room for maybe 1 or 2 young lovers to kiss in the light of the moon.
This is not my young lover, nor is there a photo that could ever replicate my feelings in that memory.
But you can see it through the faces of all who roam here.
You can tell by the looks on their faces that they know about the thunder.
