Summer Girl in November

I went down to the water
cause I knew I’d feel a lot better
The swans were barking at dogs
And me, I went off and got lost
Oh a lullaby is useless in the morning
Like your best friend telling you he’s horny
And when the worst thing about a writer is his stories
You can always come home
I met my summer girl in November
The rain came down to remind me to remember
I swear she thought I was someone else
I really did my best I wasn’t myself.
Oh a lullaby is useless in the morning
Like your best friend telling you he’s horny
And when the worst thing about a writer is his stories
You can always come home

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