Hey girl, sweet thing. I want everything. You love me too. And I want you. Well I think I'm gonna. Jump right through your window. And I think I'm gonna.
Summer, you old Indian Summer. You're the tear that comes after June-time's laughter. You see so many dreams that don't come true. Dreams we fashioned when Summertime was new.
Breakfast in cemetery. Boy tastin' wild cherry. Touch girl, apple blossom. Just a boy playin' possum. We'll come back for Indian Summer. We'll come back for Indian Summer.