If you took a dive from that diving board
You would dive into dry porcelain
With rusting paint turning the basin floor
From baby blue to dirty cinnamon
This would mix, of course, with your fresh spilled blood
Which would turn wine-dark in the evening air
It would be a wholly different experience
Than landing in the water you were told would be there
♪
Ah, such a gruesome thing
To be imagining
This season makes me cruel
I have these thoughts in the summertime too
♪
I have these thoughts in the summertime too
♪
I have these thoughts in the summertime too
♪
I have these thoughts in the summertime too
♪
I have these thoughts in the summertime-
Such a gruesome thing
To be imagining
This season makes me cruel
I have these thoughts in the summertime
I have these thoughts in the summertime
I have these thoughts in the summertime too