You and me,
Spent the summer on L.S.D.,
Watching V.H.S. and blank cassettes,
From nineteen eighty-three.
And I got fever dreams,
Where I still believe,
In that better kind of love,
A warmer era for us, ya know.
Sometimes,
When I'm talking,
To myself, and all the stars in Georgia.
They spell your name,
I go back to think...
Of you and me,
In the summer on L.S.D.,
Watching V.H.S. and blank cassettes,
From nineteen ninety-three.
I got polaroids in old shoeboxes,
I got a lovely home, for lonely bones,
Deep inside my closet.
I could recognize the balance,
Between tyranny and tragic, dear.
And I got fever dreams,
That hold clairvoyance.
And I swear these dire visions,
Keep me soaking in the vicious,
When I bleed.
Sometimes,
When I'm writing,
On the page,
With words I've been denying.
They spell your name,
I go back and think...
Of you and me,
In the summer on L.S.D.,
Watching V.H.S.
And blank cassettes,
When you were only seventeen.
You and me,
Felt like a picture on the silver screen,
Well rehearsed and bursting at the seams,
For the world to see.
