The last day of summer's due And I bet it looks good on you. So let's find some bottles of something And ignore all the truths of consequence. You bring the sandwiches And I'll bring the neediness And a story about the lone ranger walking into a bar. And I know it's is stupid and so inappropriate, But I'm tired of truth and consequence. We'll talk about the weather And how our sounds are all the same, The pointlessness of phone book listings When you don't know my name. I'll lie about your summer dress, Just to play coy, I guess, When you ask and I say that it's boring, When really it swirls just like a weapon, a bank heist utility In the hands of a skillful hypnotist. We'll talk about the weather And how our sounds are all the same, The pointlessness of tenderness when words are only waves And you don't know my name. You don't know my name. Don't mind the distant assembling thunder clouds, They're only baboons and candy floss. Because I'm gonna put you up to it, you just don't know it yet. And you'll fall like apples and empires, Until there's nothing but hearts and consequence.