| 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 |