This track comes from Aaron Stransky's core identity — Folly Beach roots, 843 area code, the raw unfiltered version. It tackles The Lowcountry marsh landscape - the smell of pluff mud, the spartina grass, the herons, the way the marsh teaches patience. The lyrics get specific — "Pluff mud perfume, that's the Lowcountry cologne" — because personal tracks on Majik's are personal for real, not performatively. The country production matches the energy of the confession. It hits serene and grounding, in that order. Every personal track in the catalogue comes from a real moment, a real feeling, a real person. This one is no exception.
[verse 1]
Pluff mud perfume, that's the Lowcountry cologne
Smells like low tide and childhood and the only place called home
Spartina grass waving like a congregation singing
To a sermon preached by wind and the church bells ringing
From across the waterway where the steeple catches sun
And the great blue heron stands like a statue, like a nun
In prayer, perfectly still, waiting for the moment
When the fish reveals itself, that's patience as a component
Of survival, and the marsh has been teaching that for centuries
To anyone who's willing to slow down and see
[chorus]
The marsh sings a song if you're quiet enough to hear it
A low tide hymn that the wind helps steer it
Through the spartina and the oyster beds and the fiddler crabs
The marsh sings a song about all the things we've had
And all the things we'll lose if we don't stop and listen
To the Lowcountry's oldest musician
[verse 2]
I came here wired tight from years of Navy tension
Type-A personality with a constant need for mention
Of the next task, next mission, next deliverable due
But the marsh doesn't care about your calendar, it's true
The tide comes in on tide time, not on Aaron time
And the sunset doesn't wait for you to finish one more line
Of code, the egret hunts regardless of your deadline
And the dolphin pods don't check their phones, that's the headline
So I learned to sit, to watch, to breathe the salt air in
And let the marsh reprogram me from deep within
[chorus]
The marsh sings a song if you're quiet enough to hear it
A low tide hymn that the wind helps steer it
Through the spartina and the oyster beds and the fiddler crabs
The marsh sings a song about all the things we've had
And all the things we'll lose if we don't stop and listen
To the Lowcountry's oldest musician
[bridge]
High tide covers everything in silver
Low tide shows the bones of what's beneath
And in between there's all of life's great questions
Answered by the mud beneath your feet
The marsh doesn't judge, doesn't rush, doesn't worry
It just does what marshes do, no hurry
And maybe that's the lesson I was sent here to learn
That not everything needs to ship, some things just need to turn
With the tide
[verse 3]
Now I keep a kayak at the put-in on the creek
Paddle out on Saturday mornings, don't need to speak
Just glide through the spartina corridors in silence
Watch the osprey dive, that's natural brilliance
No algorithm could predict the beauty of this place
No AI could replicate the salt wind on my face
The marsh was here before the code, before the ships, before the wars
And it'll be here long after, keeping score
Of every sunset, every tide, every heron's patient stance
The marsh is Charleston's heartbeat, and I'm grateful for the dance
[chorus]
The marsh sings a song if you're quiet enough to hear it
A low tide hymn that the wind helps steer it
Through the spartina and the oyster beds and the fiddler crabs
The marsh sings a song about all the things we've had
And all the things we'll lose if we don't stop and listen
To the Lowcountry's oldest musician
[outro]
Pluff mud and patience
Spartina and grace
The marsh is singing
If you'll make the space
