The Summer of Twenty and Four
by Light Writer
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.