Summersong

Ever spend so much time looking forward to something for so long, that once it gets here.... You really don't enjoy it? That perhaps it was the exhilaration of expectation that kept you going. And the starkness of the reality, well . . .

And what really is it that keeps you going if it isn't those wild, unrequited expectations? If we were to sit down and and take stock of what we have today - well, there isn't much point to it all, is there?

And who am I to complain about expectations? Poor Tim. I don't think I've lived up to a single one of his.

Ramblin' where to begin
I taste the summer on your peppery skin
Been saved the warmer the waves
I felt a slip into a watery grave
My girl, linen and curls
Lips parting like a flag all unfurled
She's grand the bend of her hand
Digging deep into the sweep of the sand
Summer arrives with a length of lights
Summer blows away
And quietly gets swallowed by a wave
It gets swallowed by a wave
Waylay the din of the day
Boats bobbing in the blue of the bay
In deep far beneath all the dead sailors
Slowly slipping to sleep
My girl, linen and curls
Lips parting like a flag all unfurled
She's grand the bend of her hand
Digging deep into the sweep of the sand
Summer arrives with a length of lights
Summer blows away
And quietly gets swallowed by a wave
It gets swallowed by a wave...
- Summersong, The Decemberists