the music’s changed,
it’s getting louder.
by next weekend,
you’ll be gone.

the summer days
are nearly over now,
the DJ plays
a summer song.

the good-time crowd
is looking older,
their cartoon laugher
seems unkind.

the summer days
are nearly over now,
the summer rave
counts the hours and marks your time.

the summer rays
are streaming through the evening sky.
the summer says,
It’ll work out fine.