it's summer the hairs grown in on my upper thigh just like so much corn in late july



but is it summer i'm shaking and my feet are bitter cold i need some fries to go



with that shake i need to grease back my hair or let it whip in my face let it whip



my face i love you baby i love you we'll stock up on canned goods and move to



the woods we'll find a piece of land and quit this fucking band i love you baby i



love you