Almost Summer - Jason Collett

Lemon gin, corn fields plowed under.

Cigarettes, Southern Comfort

with your friends behind the bleachers it’s my first dance.

He’s gonna beat it in the high school gym

It’s almost summer, almost warm enough to swim.

Backyards are waiting.

He’s got your name, he’s got your number

He’s got your name, he’s got your number

The sun sets across the parking lot,

walking cool with your friends.

Before the ready cops even know you’re in the sand.

The night is waiting

Here he comes, you’re a little nervous

Here he comes