Summer shandy Sandy,
The hints of lemon sour
Crack a bottle on the hour,
I practically drink it in the shower,
I should quit you but I don’t have the power.
A quick take to addiction,
My body gives into submission,
My friends all tell me to listen,
But it’s your cold taste I’ve been missing.
I struggle with the cravings,
Suicidal ravings,
Dashed to bits on pencil shavings,
Written in shame, but I ain’t praying.
Oh, Summer Shandy Sandy,
I miss the long walks,
The quiet talks,
The bomb drops,
Tell me to stop,
But I need to drink,
Don’t want to think,
About the hours later in the kitchen sink,
Where you and I could commiserate,
When I have you I don’t need no dinner plate,
You put me in a sorry state,
No real plans to situate,
But when I’m with you I’m feeling great.
Oh, Sweet Summer Shandy Sandy,
I miss the feeling,
This copacetic healing,
You’ve got my stomach reeling,
But my heart is hearing,
The low tone notes repeating,
The bottles chilled, thought I was beating,
Her sirens calling, but I’m still reaching,
For that sweet sinful cold embrace,
Of her twist off cap, and that smooth, rich grace.
Jul 10, 2019
Jul 10, 2019 at 4:19 AM UTC
Summer shandy Sandy,
The hints of lemon sour
Crack a bottle on the hour,
I practically drink it in the shower,
I should quit you but I don’t have the power.
A quick take to addiction,
My body gives into submission,
My friends all tell me to listen,
But it’s your cold taste I’ve been missing.
I struggle with the cravings,
Suicidal ravings,
Dashed to bits on pencil shavings,
Written in shame, but I ain’t praying.
Oh, Summer Shandy Sandy,
I miss the long walks,
The quiet talks,
The bomb drops,
Tell me to stop,
But I need to drink,
Don’t want to think,
About the hours later in the kitchen sink,
Where you and I could commiserate,
When I have you I don’t need no dinner plate,
You put me in a sorry state,
No real plans to situate,
But when I’m with you I’m feeling great.
Oh, Sweet Summer Shandy Sandy,
I miss the feeling,
This copacetic healing,
You’ve got my stomach reeling,
But my heart is hearing,
The low tone notes repeating,
The bottles chilled, thought I was beating,
Her sirens calling, but I’m still reaching,
For that sweet sinful cold embrace,
Of her twist off cap, and that smooth, rich grace.
Not actually about a beer, in case it wasn't obvious.
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