(no subject)
Summer creeps up from behind us,
With sweaty palms and pink popsicle stained lips.
Quietly,
through the back door,
With dirty hair and tan-lined hips.
Hides behind the dusty bookshelf
after it tip-toes through living room,
And then haunts the dead-end hallway
with the summer love who can make your heart boom.
Summer gets left alone sometimes,
While we drift in our far off silent dreams,
And dances in the night
With the warm moon beams.
Summer is wished here by teenage girls,
With lust and lack of sleep.
And also by the ones that cant wait to get tan,
and re-dye their roots with platinum hair bleach.
Slipping now through the dinning room,
With your torn geometry book and peeling electric blue nails,
running down hills, and sliding down the side of the stairs
on the high schools sticky metal rails.
Summer gets drawn on the calendars in our minds
Pages and pages back,
With warm flower-blossom nights,
And the love we usually lack.
Summer arrives like an old, old train,
a bit delayed on arival but the ride is still the same
Far a first, then it hits you hard
Like the waves on a beach
or the wind in a storm.
Summer is a funny thing,
Blown in with the breeze.
Just what the cat dragged in,
Is what everybody needs.
With sweaty palms and pink popsicle stained lips.
Quietly,
through the back door,
With dirty hair and tan-lined hips.
Hides behind the dusty bookshelf
after it tip-toes through living room,
And then haunts the dead-end hallway
with the summer love who can make your heart boom.
Summer gets left alone sometimes,
While we drift in our far off silent dreams,
And dances in the night
With the warm moon beams.
Summer is wished here by teenage girls,
With lust and lack of sleep.
And also by the ones that cant wait to get tan,
and re-dye their roots with platinum hair bleach.
Slipping now through the dinning room,
With your torn geometry book and peeling electric blue nails,
running down hills, and sliding down the side of the stairs
on the high schools sticky metal rails.
Summer gets drawn on the calendars in our minds
Pages and pages back,
With warm flower-blossom nights,
And the love we usually lack.
Summer arrives like an old, old train,
a bit delayed on arival but the ride is still the same
Far a first, then it hits you hard
Like the waves on a beach
or the wind in a storm.
Summer is a funny thing,
Blown in with the breeze.
Just what the cat dragged in,
Is what everybody needs.