Summer (Butcher Two) - Matt Pond PA

saturday night

the summerЂ™s here

under clothes hands disappear

buttons slip

theyЂ™ve gone stray

with them thoughts have gone away

too far to see from the back seat

where sleeping is the enemy

in our hands

is more sense

than butchered words we donЂ™t understand

to ourselves

our skin sticks

our palms sweat

our teeth click

flashing glimpses do not see

when daylight is the enemy

i can barely see your blue eyes

i can barely make them out

itЂ™s alright in this red

your mouth tastes perfectly like cigarettes

itЂ™s ok

it is fine

thereЂ™s nothing just one thing on our mind

saturday night

summerЂ™s here

the sound of breath is in our ears

guess the coast is completely clear

into water we disappear