The summer sun beats down on my back, the wind caresses my hair. There’s ice in my glass, flirting by the pool… I know it can’t last but I don’t care. ~
The summer sun beats down on my back, a searing wind fingers my soul. There’s death in the grass troops are on the move, to last till tomorrow is my short-term goal. ~
The first will be last and the last will be first when the Reaper collects his dues…
Summer sun © Peter Giles Check out the lyrics on the Music pages. Recording to follow soon.
or go direct https://thequestioningbeing.wordpress.com/have-you-got-the-cure/summer-sun/