Die in the Summertime
BRADFIELD, EDWARDS, JONES, MOORE
Scratch my leg with a rusty nail, sadly it heals
Colour my hair but the dye grows out
I can't seem to stay a fixed ideal
Childhood pictures redeem, clean and so serene
See myself without ruining lines
Whole days throwing sticks into streams
I have crawled so far sideways
I recognise dim traces of creation
I want to die, die in the summertime, I want to die
The hole in my life even stains the soil
My heart shrinks to barely a pulse
A tiny animal curled into a quarter circle
If you really care wash the feet of a beggar
I have crawled so far sideways
I recognise dim traces of creation
I want to die, die in the summertime, I want to die
I have crawled so far sideways
I recognise dim traces of creation
I want to die, die in the summertime, I want to die