S. Hurley
Our attraction was so obvious, you could it eat with a fork
Still we try to savor every drop by mestling like spoons
There's something more
We're too old to get serious, but too hardened to limp
When I explain there's no explanation, we both know
Who's the wimp
I feel the timing sliipping away
I'm still worth a pint of pa**ion, if I've been properly poured
But your sweaty palms are now dry and fidelity translates as horde
Summertime, sweet summertime. Ice cream cake and you
Melting like the sweat we made when akwardness was through
Now you're too familiar, too close to be distant
And my breathe grows short, smothered by addiction