a good life

I was born a tumbleweed
way down in the desert
on the road to el centro
down Indio way
I was raised by the ocean
where the foghorn blows daily
in a shipping and navy town
where my memory stays

          when I go deep in that dark night
          when my days of labor are through
          I don't know if it's been a good life
          but I guess it'll have to do