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Lyric provided by www.seekalyric.com |
Lemon gin, corn fields plowed under Cigarettes, Southern Comfort With your friends behind the bleachers It's not this dance, heâs gonna be there In the high school gym And itâs almost summer Almost warm enough to swim Backyards are waiting Heâs got your name Heâs got your number Heâs got your name Heâs got your number The sun sets across the parking lot Walking cool with your friends Before the ready cops Even know youâre innocent The night is waiting Here he comes Youâre a little nervous Here he comes Well, youâre getting up the courage, yeah The music sucks But heâs your salvation Cherry lip gloss You know what heâs tasting, yeah Yeah, yeah, yeah Youâre in his car getting high Pair of fuzzy dice by the dashboard light Super toke, gets smoke in his eye Your head is swimming With the anticipation And suddenly youâre puking out the door With your pants around your knees But heâs a nice boy So he drops you on your street You canât believe it, looks like you blew it Heâs got your name Heâs got your number Heâs driving away Oh, what a bummer, yeah Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah So you stumble home But you donât quite make it You wake up on the lawn Of your next door neighborâs The sun is warm Itâs almost summer, yeah Itâs almost summer, yeah Itâs almost summer, yeah Itâs almost summer, yeah Itâs almost summer, yeah Itâs almost summer, yeah Itâs almost summer, yeah Itâs almost summer, yeah It's |