Album: Slow Note From a Sinking Ship
I won't be around to cut your holiday trimmings down
I won't be there to hold your hand
From where I stand you don't appear to need it
And the summer end, like a ruined heir we tried to read it
Don't think we can
A spider you can't catch, a cunning rusty latch
A weatherman acting coy, a web you can't destroy
But I'm your boy
Although you may not need it
And the summer flew, I know how hard you tried to beat it
But we both knew
The light comes in much too early every day
It wakes me up but it won't chase those dreams away
The light comes in much too early every day
It wakes me up but it won't chase those dreams away