S.O.G.

In Tampa, south of Gandy you won’t find a classy joint.

There’s a lot of good food, but that’s not my point.

Shorts and a t-shirt are always allowed.

No one’s better than anyone, we’re all just part of the crowd.

Most of us get excited and we can talk way to loud.

But when we think about home, we can’t help but feel proud.

There was only one high school and most of us graduated.

Despite thirty-eight percent of us being over-medicated.

That statistic can’t be corroborated.

Just trust me when I tell you, most of my friends were sedated.

Sadly, the new section of Crosstown makes it seem gated.

I feel kind of slated.

It’s still south of Gandy, so I’ll never hate it.

Not much is the same and neither are we.

Just know I’m forever thankful for my time, S.O.G.

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