Like stallions, we race, along Santa Cruz streets,
As the shadows of the day sink away to the shore,
With ecstasy, we leap, to the snow-white sand that echoes soft beats,
Where waters stained turquoise mimic tales of lore,
The sun is descending and the sky is tinged gold,
As we are carried, in tender grasp, by the docile tide,
Our salted skin is kissed with subtle cold,
As we ride, pacified by cheerful cries,
In the stillest of moments, there emerges a creature,
Adorned in a coat of silk, the sea lion roars a great story,
We emerge from the depths with the words of this sea preacher,
Bound to the earth and yet, we are free,
But alas, the day grows weary and the sun is swept away,
Like stallions, we race, along Santa Cruz streets, to play another day.