Longest day, record high,
A midpoint that feels like the start of something new
A man, he waits, no shade in sight
On a Rutherford bench of chipped and fading blue
When September comes, I'll fly out fast and straight
With a fat stack of cash and all my new-found strength
Longest day, I'm still high
Think I'll quit the drink and flip to full-time bud
But when the autumn sky opens wide
It'll be tough to say no to a covered liquid lunch
Turkey vultures circling low
O'er a pile of spent tax dollars in a hole
A little reflection could distill you down to a better light
Like how the sun just makes you tired
But the moon will let you run all night
When September comes, I'll carve out a piece of myself
Bury it, or crush it with a hammer, I can't tell
When September comes, I'll be leaving
I'll temper expectations when I'm gone
Til then I can't help but dreaming
It's nine o'clock and I've still got the sun
There's a rock on a too-steep west-facing hill
It's flat as a bench
And it's there when I have time to kill
