The ballad of moving hell

After five more years in Texas
We said, "It's time to go."
But go where? we had to ask.
That's what we didn't know.

We'd developed kind of an attitude
About our southern latitude
And the hordes disrupting the stasis
Of the last liberal Texas oasis

Our minds turned to Colorado
The land of four season fun
Goodbye, Llano Estacado
Hello, Rocky Mountain sun

With drought-dried hell in the rearview mirror
We took everything we owned
And thrilled as we came nearer and nearer
To the land of the legally stoned

Twice in that land we packed up our things
And piled them again in a truck
Our furniture sustained big cracks and dings
And we acknowledged that moving does suck

The land of the stoned wasn't all that we'd hoped
In spite of the mountains and rivers and streams
By the end of two years, we were less than stoked
And had realized it wasn't the land of our dreams

So at last we did what we'd known all along
Was right for the whole family
We knew of a place where we all belonged
At the edge of this land, by the endless blue sea

The last move was one of epic proportion
It required four months and considerable grief
We put ourselves through unpredicted contortions
And lost our TV to a mover-slash-thief.

At the last stage, we felt we were almost done
That the end of our travels was in sight
And the only mishap was a pod overturned
Which the movers and I soon had upright.

And now here we sit in a house in the hills
With the Pacific a few miles away
The salt air and the trees have soothed away ills
So we think here's the place we will stay.

... possibly.