| It was the time of year just after the summer’s gone
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| When August and September just become memories of songs
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| To be put away with the summer clothes
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| And packed up in the attic for another year
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| We had decided to stay on for a few weeks more
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| Although the season was over now the days were still warm
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| And seemed reluctant to five up and hand over to winter for another year
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| Indian, Indian summer
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| Her parents had rented a house on the shore
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| 'Though I stared at her all summer we never really talked
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| In the end, at the summer’s end
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| I wish we could turn it around and start it again
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| She shared a house with her sister and mother
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| It belonged to a painter who rented out for the summer
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| Her father had already gone home
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| The days were quiet and we were both alone
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| Intensified by the lack of competition
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| We walked along the ocean and put off decisions
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| To keep us from saying goodbye
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| Indian, Indian summer
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| In the distance the city lights flickered in the bay
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| But any previous existence seemed a world away
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| In the end, at the summer’s end
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| I wish we could turn around and start it again
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| Indian, Indian summer
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| Away from the magic could it ever be the same
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| I think I knew those days would never come again |