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Description
Bird of the Summer - A Fine Frenzy

You came with the season, as the first swallow sang
A brown headed stranger, with a five-letter name

We planted our kisses where the wild berries grow my feet sprouted wings and I flew all the way home dooodoodoo

My cheeks red like fire engines racing straight to the heat of your skin and I know our days are numbered, early bird of the summer you'll fly south just as the fall begins

The leaves changed their colors and the schoolyards were filled
My coat with the patches barely keeps out the chill dooo

You sent me a postcard from a town out of state, I wish it were warmer and I hope you're the same doopdoodoo

The fields where we wandered were golden
Now only muddy my boots and I know I should recover, you're a bird of the summer, I was wrong to try and capture you

Flight
Flight

I met someone walking in a park by the lake
He don't fly like we did but he don't fly away

Gone is the pale hand of winter
Here is the first flush of may
And soon I will discover whether birds of the summer fly in circles or just fly away

Description
Bird of the Summer - A Fine Frenzy

You came with the season, as the first swallow sang
A brown headed stranger, with a five-letter name

We planted our kisses where the wild berries grow my feet sprouted wings and I flew all the way home dooodoodoo

My cheeks red like fire engines racing straight to the heat of your skin and I know our days are numbered, early bird of the summer you'll fly south just as the fall begins

The leaves changed their colors and the schoolyards were filled
My coat with the patches barely keeps out the chill dooo

You sent me a postcard from a town out of state, I wish it were warmer and I hope you're the same doopdoodoo

The fields where we wandered were golden
Now only muddy my boots and I know I should recover, you're a bird of the summer, I was wrong to try and capture you

Flight
Flight

I met someone walking in a park by the lake
He don't fly like we did but he don't fly away

Gone is the pale hand of winter
Here is the first flush of may
And soon I will discover whether birds of the summer fly in circles or just fly away