What You Do Back Home

I can see it, you know

That moment when you shed your skin
Your home skin
Your suppressed skin
The skin that olds you back
All the other weeks of the year

When you have to be composed
And sensible
And put together

I can see you let that go

By the time the week's up
This place
This whole town
Is covered
In skin

We see photos of it
On the cameras
Of the locals
Who work the bars
Who work out all year
Knowing it'll pay off
When the folks from the mainland show up
Looking to have a little fun
Looking to show off
A little skin

They'll mess with each other first
Feels safer that way

But after awhile
They want a taste of the island
So they hang out by the doors
By the lifeguard chairs

They order extra drinks at the restaurants
Waiting for the places to close up
So they can ask their waiter
What his name is
And oh by the way
Here's a little extra
To tag onto that already too-generous tip

The local boys don't mind
They know the drill

See, the thing is
When they mess around with each other
The question comes up

The question nobody wants to answer

What do you do
Back home?

They ask each other that
And they bristle
When they get asked

After that, they're weary of each other
They feel invaded
They feel judged
They feel like just that mere taste of curiosity
Was enough to mentally and emotionally
Send them back home

So the island boys
They don't ask

They don't care
They don't want to know
What you do
Back home

All they want to know is--

Are you having fun?

Do you want to have more fun?

How much fun
Do you want to have?

And once you've answered those questions
You'll be so far from home
You won't even remember
What street you live on

Then the week ends
You pack your bags
You do your hair
You shower for the first time in
God knows how long

I mean, really shower
I mean you wipe yourself down
Wipe down all that
New skin
You've acquired

Then you leave one last tip
And you're out

You're done

You're heading back home

And we wave from the shore
And we look sort of sad
And we grit our teeth

And something happens
To our skin too

It gets tougher

It gets rough
Like sandpaper

We get rashes and hives
And welts and bruises
That don't go away for months

See, you can't step away from where you're from
And drop down somewhere
And play around
And think
You're not going to leave a mark

Everything leaves a mark

And if you think what you do back home
Doesn't creep its way into what you do here

Then that's only because you're a hundred miles away
Before our skin starts to itch
And blacken
And tear

You never see it
You never have to

And that's what you pay for, right?

That's why what you do here
Costs
So much