Miles Hodges - 7 Reasons To Love Summer lyrics

1. The sun. ‘Round mid-May, when the rain has severely beaten my mind into a constant pulp of montone grey, the sun rears her head from beneath the ashes of a seven month cold and it feels like I can breathe again. Breathe. 2. Summer Nights are often the closest we get to Heaven on earth. 3. The Women. Their legs literally seem to get longer in the summer. Their hips get a taste of the season's breeze and begin to speak a language with more freedom than that of Spring's. Their skin gets kissed-bright, to glow for when they put on those light-colored free-flowing body-showing dresses. Further, if we are fortunate enough to be near a beach, we get the pleasure of their swimsuit life. With all that water that be around. Yeah. ***Summer also puts the most fantastically radiant smiles on the faces of God's greatest creations. Their faces become full with the air, and in a self-proclaimed celebration to make up for the patriarchy of winter, Women show their teeth. More so than anything else these smiles are the crowns to the aforementioned observations. The legs, the hips, the skin, the sundresses, and the bikinis are all adorned at their tops with the type of joy that only Summer can buy. Said joy is the jackpot of the season. 4. Number 3. 5. Washington Heights. There is something unequivocally special about taking the 1 train or the A uptown and getting off somewhere in the 160s on a hot Summer day. You'll see a million stories unfolding in the heat as you walk up Broadway towards Inwood—each block with its own history and accented pitch. There is of course no English within earshot. Every stoop is crowded, every window is partying. The concrete streets bake, the bachata rings and rhythms itself to the clatter from the sidewalk Domino tables. No fire hydrant stands a chance. 6. Swxxt 7. Summer eventually ends, and when it does, we stash it away like a stolen treasure. We commit it to the part of our memories that is only to be spoken of through warmly cryptic nostalgia. The kind of thing one brushes over during a dinner conversation with a soft chuckle. ‘Well, that was just Summer…' we say, and all is forgiven. When Fall comes we will rid ourselves of the mornings that started at 5pm and the nights that ended in whiskey. Rid ourselves of the late night smoke sessions and the half-relinquished lovers that will never be what they were that one summer. All the weekdays we spent sinning like they were weekends. All the fun we had until the date itself became irrelevant are forgiven. Summer is beautiful because it fades towards, but not to an abyss. The three months will pa** and carry with them a certain glory that is comfortable with whispering itself into a far off glisten. Almost without having happened in the first place—and thusly, every summer is the best summer ever.