Song | Summer Town |
Artist | The Lucksmiths |
Album | Boondoggle |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
I’ll drop you a postcard, I’ll pick up my pen | |
Miranda Street’s deserted, it’s winter again | |
Give me ten minutes and I’ll paint you a picture | |
Of holiday houses where the sun won’t shine | |
And the paint is peeling around the ‘vacancy’ sign | |
And it’s winter forever, whatever the weather | |
And these are my autumn years | |
This is the town where the girl got run down | |
Pale sun in the pine trees, her golden hair on the ground | |
Her body crumpled and I was sick by the side of the road | |
The sun goes down on the town where the sun never rose | |
I’m waiting for December, I’m waiting for September | |
I’m waiting for the tide to come back in | |
Give me fifteen seconds and I’ll show you around | |
Where I end is where I begin | |
There’s nothing in between | |
Kicking a stone along Miranda Street | |
Stepping on cracks in the concrete | |
With a head full of loose change | |
And a pocket full of ideas | |
I could walk forever and never get out of here | |
This is the town where the girl got run down | |
And this is the town where the postman was drowned | |
And this is the town where that foundling was found | |
And the name round his neck was mine | |
How could it ever be so cold in summertime? | |
I’m too young to be so old in Summer Town |
I' ll drop you a postcard, I' ll pick up my pen | |
Miranda Street' s deserted, it' s winter again | |
Give me ten minutes and I' ll paint you a picture | |
Of holiday houses where the sun won' t shine | |
And the paint is peeling around the ' vacancy' sign | |
And it' s winter forever, whatever the weather | |
And these are my autumn years | |
This is the town where the girl got run down | |
Pale sun in the pine trees, her golden hair on the ground | |
Her body crumpled and I was sick by the side of the road | |
The sun goes down on the town where the sun never rose | |
I' m waiting for December, I' m waiting for September | |
I' m waiting for the tide to come back in | |
Give me fifteen seconds and I' ll show you around | |
Where I end is where I begin | |
There' s nothing in between | |
Kicking a stone along Miranda Street | |
Stepping on cracks in the concrete | |
With a head full of loose change | |
And a pocket full of ideas | |
I could walk forever and never get out of here | |
This is the town where the girl got run down | |
And this is the town where the postman was drowned | |
And this is the town where that foundling was found | |
And the name round his neck was mine | |
How could it ever be so cold in summertime? | |
I' m too young to be so old in Summer Town |
I' ll drop you a postcard, I' ll pick up my pen | |
Miranda Street' s deserted, it' s winter again | |
Give me ten minutes and I' ll paint you a picture | |
Of holiday houses where the sun won' t shine | |
And the paint is peeling around the ' vacancy' sign | |
And it' s winter forever, whatever the weather | |
And these are my autumn years | |
This is the town where the girl got run down | |
Pale sun in the pine trees, her golden hair on the ground | |
Her body crumpled and I was sick by the side of the road | |
The sun goes down on the town where the sun never rose | |
I' m waiting for December, I' m waiting for September | |
I' m waiting for the tide to come back in | |
Give me fifteen seconds and I' ll show you around | |
Where I end is where I begin | |
There' s nothing in between | |
Kicking a stone along Miranda Street | |
Stepping on cracks in the concrete | |
With a head full of loose change | |
And a pocket full of ideas | |
I could walk forever and never get out of here | |
This is the town where the girl got run down | |
And this is the town where the postman was drowned | |
And this is the town where that foundling was found | |
And the name round his neck was mine | |
How could it ever be so cold in summertime? | |
I' m too young to be so old in Summer Town |