Changing Symptoms from 04 by Post Sixty Five

I won’t miss the summer
Cause I’m the one who waits
There’s no one here to tell her
That all the cars are away.
Bitter afternoon colors
In a city I can’t shake
My room is getting darker
And I’m the one who waits

My beard is getting longer
A little blue at the tips
I spoiled a white girl’s summer
Stretched out her old fever
I stay up too late
In the city that I hate
Listen to Dylan records
And Boots of Spanish Leather

There’s boys in dinner jackets
Circling girls that I can’t reach
And I think about you often
And the dirt between your knees
I’m still folded in my room
Wasteland in the heat
There’s no one here to tell her
Her hands feel just like spiders
Her hands feel just like spiders
Her hands feel just like spiders
Her hands feel just like spiders

• Rock
• Charlottesville