During late Summer, we're just wishing it was Fall.
And all we want is to be seven again.
All Saints' Day is going to feel more like Winter,
Rather than Halloween-time.
This is all we have left,
After a decade of wanting nothing more than to leave,
And all we've got is, I'd guess, this feeling of wanting to stay in her womb.
And we have been so cool about Mass on Tuesday.
Did I mention that we don't want to lose them?
We took "the photographs and still frames in our minds,"
But when I think of them from time to time, I just want to be seven again.
And on Halloween afternoon, I want to walk to the store with you,
Because you forgot to buy your nothingness,
'Cause you're going to be a ghost. Well we're "going to be something," Atleast that's what they told us every day.
And we're "ourselves,"
And that we've "got so much talent for only two dozen kids."
I want to be seven again.
Late-May or early June, when we forget our books (and I'm missing you),
Or at Christmas, this year I won't forget to say goodbye.
All it comes down to in the end,
Is I want to be seven again.
