On the Other Side

05:31
Doug Spears
2010-01-01
Doug Spears

Story

The Everglades have long reached out to the outlaw and the untamed among us. For hundreds of years, that area of the Glades in Southwest Florida beyond Chokoluskee and the Ten Thousand Islands has been the ultimate haven for those running from something – the white man, the law, slavery, or just something within themselves. Whites, Indians, Blacks and others intermingle and co-exist on live and let live basis. But, no paradise ever survives the march of civilization. Though this wild area of Florida, full of moonshiners, poachers and outcasts has stubbornly clung to the mangrove swamps and the sawgrass, it is fading away. Through the eyes of this loner culture this is my lament to the inevitable demise of this uniquely Florida way of life.

Lyrics

 

 

There’s a bad wind blowin’ off Okeechobee He’s seen lightnin’ in the sky, And he takes it as a warnin’ This might be his last good chance to fly, This might be his last chance to fly. Hangs his hat in a shack near Chocoluskee, Works the charter boats just to pass the time, Had a brush or two with the local sheriff, Back when he was raisin’ cane and makin’ shine, He used to raise some cane and make some shine. There’s just some bridges that are meant to be burned before, You reach the other side, When today is just tomorrow’s past you know, The best get’s left behind, Over on the other side. He knows those ghosts back in the mangroves, And the sawgrass spirits out in the glades, Gator flats keep him in the money, Raw moonshine’s what’s gonna put him in his grave, Moonshine’s gonna put him down in his grave. Ten Thousand Islands and a river of grass, No paradise ever survives at last, No where to run to and no place left to hide, Stranded by the falling tide, Over on the other side. Now when he looks out across the river, There’s a land he doesn’t recognize, The face looks so familiar, but there’s, Something missin’ in the eyes, There’s something missin’ in those wild old eyes. There’s just some bridges that were meant to be burned before, You reach the other side, When today is just tomorrow’s past you know, The best get’s left behind, Over on the other side.