Monday, March 29, 2010

summer of '08

Across the field with cups of butter
Next to the music filled sky
That's where we'd go every summer
And we still hold the memories that passed us bye

Where we are now, is getting hotter
Behind the yellow tree bark
So we break the glass on top of the water
All the way into the nightly dark

But first, when the sky has paint spilt all over
That's when you hear the most beautiful sounds
That we drink to untill were sober
With our faces stuck with an upside-down frown

No comments:

Post a Comment