summer song

I felt this summer fill and fold like an abscess, Punctured by August's seasoned bite, I'm smaller than the last time I called this bed home, And I don't think that I'll fill this space again This ground's too firm for digging up the land, Taking more than I'm giving in my house built out of sand, Watching hourglasses tell of the end of the evening news, It's hard to be better when there's no one to account for you The altitude it makes me sick till dawn, And the man in the green shirt beckons, "There's just one year till the Earth is gone," Keep yourself small, Hiding southern drawl and I can't find my breaks, In the company of uncertainty, When did getting out become this race? This race There's a tea shop from Tibet around the corner, And we traded them an internet cafe, I'm swallowed by the lives I don't lead, Wondering how long this will all be green, There's dragon's tongue in the bottom of my cup The altitude it makes me sick till dawn, And the man in the green shirt beckons, "There's just one year till the Earth is gone," Keep yourself small, Hiding southern drawl and I can't find my breaks, In the company of uncertainty, When did getting out become this race? This race Ooooh