I know that the summer holds some type of magic
That it somehow becomes a physical reincarnation of nostalgia
Where time stands still when we are given a chance to have the perfect night
Where past loves can meet again, on brick or carpet
For one more night of infatuation and hand holding

Where hate drowns in amaretto or burns out in the sun
And we return to one cohesive group, singing old songs that hold more meaning than any of us realize
We jump to the beat of that one perfect year, entwined in our scents and lisps and favorite beers

I know that when fall returns, we won't be drinking Miller Lite with our best friends on the back porch
You won't be close to saying something real
I will return to bad habits in dark basements
We will all have to go on in real time speed

Leaving the Band of Bad Kids
Breaks my heart every year