| Indian summer, how much more can I take?
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| I’m begging for the heat to break
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| My throat is parched, my skin is red
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| Fan blowing on my face in a sweat-soaked bed
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| Fall is a daydream from when I was young
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| Backpacks, bonfires, cool in the sun
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| Crickets and kisses beneath the moon
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| Sneaking upstairs to my bedroom
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| If I could take back just one thing
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| I’d rewind to the last day of spring
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| You held my hand and squeezed it hard
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| We walked until the streets got dark
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| Gave me some new book to read
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| Sayin' I hope you find what you need
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| And just like that we’re the broken-hearted
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| Just like that my fever started
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| And the green grass turned to sand
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| The sky filled with a haze
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| We thought we wanted freedom
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| But what we got were these dog days
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| And our lonely hearts are lazy
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| Sipping a stranger’s salty kiss
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| Begging for a body
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| We’ll take anything we can get
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| Labor Day weekend, 90 degrees
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| A bottle of beer between my knees
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| A smoke, a sigh, a sideways glance
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| He’s not the type to ask me to dance
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| Not the type to hold my hand
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| But he once played in some famous band
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| An empty pool, we both take a dive
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| We leave that party for a drive
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| But his hands are like sandpaper
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| His eyes are dark and dull
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| Months of dehydration have really taken their toll
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| And our tangled torsos tighten
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| As we’re movin' out and in
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| He leaves before the traffic
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| And I’m burning up again
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| And I’m angry when he leaves me
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| I love, they love me not
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| Popsicle to my temples
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| I’m so fucking hot
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| And I’m frustrated forever
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| About the air that hangs around
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| Waftin' around my apartment
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| I can’t cool down
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| Indian summer, how much more can I take?
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| Just waiting for…
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| The heat to break |