oh, I'll be the summer clothes
she wears on the beach lying out on a sheet reading Sylvia Plath
and oh, I never thought it'd be so cold
buried in the sands we see with our hands touching in the dark.
and leave, I think we've gone too far
her feet are still sore and some local punk just stole my guitar
we're flames falling from the sky
in ribbons of red that tie at her head for framing her eyes
and oh, the water becomes so cold
the winter has eyes with more suicides singing in their cars
but oh, I'll be her summer clothes
she wears on the beach lying out on a sheet reading Sylvia Plath...