Pirates of Paradise

Bound by a deep devotion to the feeling of the wind in the sails the Pirates of Paradise have sailed off to different shores. So, here I stand at the Gates of Paradise, close to the Sinner's Tree with smoke in hand and beer to wash it away. Tear stained skies kissed by the dewy mist of the early morning sun, once again greet the day. Perpetually on vacation has become a new motto of mine, for it seems work is just a means to get somewhere. Far far away the Pirates seem to have drifted, but a big hearty, manly ARRRRRGHHH. Come on the sloop john B, my grandfather and me, Round Porpoise Key we did roam.