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