The Summer of Twenty and Four

We get our Indian summers in October sometimes

This year was a little different, but I was yours and you were mine

And when the sky was feeling sad he could only offer fog

So our days felt old and restless, but we would walk and we would talk.

 

Back then I wrote a lot of songs and you rode a lot of trains

We would bike around this town, ocean water in our veins

And the moon would be our friend, and on the sand we drank

Starting fires in the dark, making plans for better days.

 

I was yours and you were mine, our hearts were intertwined

Like the rope we used to swing on that we found when we were high

And we listened to the rain, as it called outside your window

We were addicted to the night because it told us where to go.

 

I stayed inside my room, making plans for better days

Listening to blue and yellow songs that shaped all of my ways

And you sat inside your room, making space for all your thoughts

Knowing someday we would become what we knew that we were not.

 

You watched me do my drugs and I watched you make your cuts

And we made a secret pact to never let ourselves grow up

I was your Peter, you my Pan, in our cold and foggy Neverland

But we knew someday our endless summers would no doubt have to end.

 

And so I drive and drive and drive, always thinking of those times

Of our tales of love and woe, of the beauty of our lives

I miss you more than ever, I regret letting go of your hand

I’m sorry I stayed Peter when you kept on being Pan,

I’m sorry I grew up and you stayed in Neverland.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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