If you took a dive from that diving board You would dive into dry porcelain With rusting paint turning the basin floor From baby blue to dirty cinnamon This would mix, of course, with your fresh spilled blood Which would turn wine-dark in the evening air It would be a wholly different experience Than landing in the water you were told would be there ♪ Ah, such a gruesome thing To be imagining This season makes me cruel I have these thoughts in the summertime too ♪ I have these thoughts in the summertime too ♪ I have these thoughts in the summertime too ♪ I have these thoughts in the summertime too ♪ I have these thoughts in the summertime- Such a gruesome thing To be imagining This season makes me cruel I have these thoughts in the summertime I have these thoughts in the summertime I have these thoughts in the summertime too