⸻ Verse 1 Friday night drifts in on a warm breeze Bleachers creak like old pine trees Light spills soft on the edge of town Like stars that wandered down Mama hums with the band’s slow tune Salt in the air, a rising moon Didn’t need a name they’d shout out loud Just to stand there in that crowd Pre-Chorus In a town this small, you don’t stand alone Every cheer feels like coming home Chorus I wasn’t prom queen, didn’t need to be I had more than titles could ever mean Every face felt familiar and true Like the tide that knows what it’s meant to do Under Friday night skies, calm and low Port St. Joe held me close and slow ⸻ Verse 2 Up before dawn, coffee in a cup Bay’s still breathing, sun coming up Pelicans glide in a silver line Water smooth as borrowed time Salt on my skin, line in my hand Granddad’s voice like shifting sand Every cast feels like a prayer Waiting on the morning there Chorus I wasn’t prom queen, didn’t need to be I had more than titles could ever mean From the quiet bay to the Friday glow Everywhere I stood, I was known Under morning skies and evening gold Port St. Joe held me close and slow ⸻ Verse 3 Sunsets stop you mid-step still Fire in the sky over Beacon Hill You don’t rush it, you just breathe Like the world’s remembering you and me Fishing tales grow year by year That one got bigger standing right here Laughing ‘til the embers fade Passing truths the old ones made ⸻ Bridge Bonfires crackle, guitars out of tune Barefoot circles under a drifting moon We talk about leaving, chasing roads But we always come back like the tides we know ‘Cause the water pulls, but it never lets go It just teaches your heart where to slow ⸻ Final Chorus I wasn’t prom queen, didn’t wear a crown Just a barefoot girl in a one-road town But I was seen, and I was known By Friday nights and bay-tide homes If I ever wonder who I am I trace my steps back through the sand To a small town wrapped in Gulf-side blue That’s my heart — Port St. Joe ⸻ Outro Yeah, the stories live in the salt and stone In quiet dawns and evenings slow No matter how far I roam That tide brings me back home Friday nights and the bay at dawn Port St. Joe — you’re still my song