| A flock of knives cut the sky
|
| And buried in my black eyes
|
| And the clouds they bled in my head
|
| And autumn rains soaked the dry beds
|
| And the hurricane of her eyes
|
| Willed away the knives
|
| The knives of summertime
|
| Summertime
|
| The knives of summertime
|
| Summertime
|
| The knives of summertime
|
| And I did swallow stained glass tears
|
| Absorbed by the sun for many light years
|
| And the fireflies in her hair
|
| My red concertina’s coming down the stairs
|
| And the hurricane of her eyes
|
| Willed away the knives
|
| The knives of summertime
|
| Summertime
|
| The knives of summertime
|
| Summertime
|
| The knives of summertime |