The Spins from Summering by maxwell stern

seventeen in a parking lot somewhere
really needed no excuse for being out late. really needed to cut my hair
we went from kissing on your carpet with our wine stained teeth
to drinking straight from the faucet, noses running and knees weak

baby, i’ve got the spins again
and i’m pretty fucking sure you’re the cause of them

we turned a formal education into some fucked-up display
of over-qualification and a misplaced disdain
for all the versions of ourselves that we’re learning to be
so don’t look at me like that now. it’ll keep me from sleep.

cause i like how you curse like it’s the first time you used those words
who did you learn them from?
and sometimes you spit when you talk and you’re wise to point out my faults
baby, i’ve got a few
yeah, i know that i do
so don’t look at me like that

and years later, i would
fade out your front door. oh, what was i thinking?
snow drift to slow train. you’re floating. i’m sinking.
imprints i left, balled up in your spare bed sheets
but it’s not what it looks like. marks left from a restless sleep

• Alternative
• Punk
• acoustic
• folk
• folk rock
• indie
• Philadelphia