Often times, a knife is held to the throat of my concious, threatening it, exclaiming, “Magic is dead! Admit it!” But then a song plays and the grip presently wrapped around my reality is released, and I feel all that much better about everything.


by Mae

Summertime, summertime

Brought me back to thinking you were mine

All those times.

We laid it down and left it all behind,

We were blind.

Oh, the summertime.

We could ride, we could ride.

Take my hand and watch the world go by.

Laugh or cry,

Well we need to try, get off the line, time to fly.

Oh, the summertime.

Go on ahead and let it fade away.

No looking back, you know the past will stay.

It’s you and me, we could get out of here.

Jump in and go and we could drive for years.

We could feel alive…

Here we are, here we are,

Windows down we see a falling star.

Stop the car.

Wait for nothing but our beating hearts, going far.

Oh, the summertime.

So feel the air, feel the air,

Take the map and point to anywhere.

I don’t care.

Fingers through your hair, the sky I’ve seen is blue and green.

Oh, the summertime.

Driving away, leaving it all behind. Driving away, just driving away.

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