Summer (Butcher Two)

Saturday night
the summer's here
under clothes
hands disappear
buttons slip
they'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 don'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
it's alright
in this red
your mouth tastes perfectly like cigarettes
it's ok
it is fine
there's nothing just one thing on our mind

Saturday night
summer's here
the sound of breath
is in our ears
guess the coast
is completely clear
into water we disappear



Credits
Writer(s): Matthew Morris Pond
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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