Your heart's a burning circle, and you're always bitchin' bout the weather
When you're bored, anticipating that your friends will starting separating
In the fall, and you were home when you called me down, drunk, saying
That it's so hard dreaming of stars or catching lightning bugs
In a jar
Your heart's a burning circle, and you're always bitchin' bout your boyfriends
And me, I could have been the one-- the coulda, shoulda, woulda one
Until the fall, when I was at school and you called me all euphoric singing
And it's so hard seeing those stars. It's bringing back feelings through these lightning bugs in a jar
In a jar
I'm a fan of the Indian summers that bleed over well into September
I'm a fan of the Indian summers
With summer bugs and smells and playoff prospects well into September
I kinda love that
(She's a Vagabond)
She can't stand all the lake effect winters of Cleveland proper
So she stares at that mason jar trying to remember her California gap year
And it was a 3 year gap year and a 3 year head rush
That WWOOFing farm commune, the one with all the lightning bugs
And it was warm when her memory went to black that September
She kinda forgot that
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