It was the same summer I learned to play "It Had to Be You" on the piano.
The same summer we jumped the fence at the fair and you won in two throws the pink dog I tried all night to win.
There's a storehouse of song t**les I can recite from that summer.
I hear one every now and then;
it seems I'm always driving when I hear one
I turn the radio up and blank my mind and let it drift.
It's a good thing I never hear more than one at a time or I don't think I could see to drive.
I see pictures taken that summer every time I give my personal belongings their annual cleaning out.
Remember that one that was taken the evening of graduation;
you wrote on the back, you wrote, well you know what you wrote, or maybe you don't, but I do.
I still go to the same theater we went to that summer.
I always sit about tenth from the back on the right;
you always got a headache if we sat any closer,
and had to squint if we sat any farther back.
You were a lot of trouble to me.
Of course I see the same people we saw that summer;
none of them ever mention you.
I guess they don't know I still remember you like I do,
or maybe they do know I still remember you like I do.
Maybe that's why they don't mention you.
And the places;
the places are still there although most of them have changed.
That narrow b**py dirt road up to the knoll where we used to park has been paved and a new housing development
has gone in.
Houses, cars, and people have invaded our place;
where your innocence became my guilt,
people live daily as if nothing has ever happened on that piece of ground.
I've learned other songs on the piano,
the fair doesn't come anymore until late September,
and those songs make me sad now instead of happy.
The pictures have gotten bent and corners broken off; they've put on a new wide screen and swinging chairs in the theater.
The people have grown older
and the knoll is a pool of lights after dark,
but the summers are still hot and that's about the only thing that hasn't changed
except that I still love you.
The same summer we jumped the fence at the fair and you won in two throws the pink dog I tried all night to win.
There's a storehouse of song t**les I can recite from that summer.
I hear one every now and then;
it seems I'm always driving when I hear one
I turn the radio up and blank my mind and let it drift.
It's a good thing I never hear more than one at a time or I don't think I could see to drive.
I see pictures taken that summer every time I give my personal belongings their annual cleaning out.
Remember that one that was taken the evening of graduation;
you wrote on the back, you wrote, well you know what you wrote, or maybe you don't, but I do.
I still go to the same theater we went to that summer.
I always sit about tenth from the back on the right;
you always got a headache if we sat any closer,
and had to squint if we sat any farther back.
You were a lot of trouble to me.
Of course I see the same people we saw that summer;
none of them ever mention you.
I guess they don't know I still remember you like I do,
or maybe they do know I still remember you like I do.
Maybe that's why they don't mention you.
And the places;
the places are still there although most of them have changed.
That narrow b**py dirt road up to the knoll where we used to park has been paved and a new housing development
has gone in.
Houses, cars, and people have invaded our place;
where your innocence became my guilt,
people live daily as if nothing has ever happened on that piece of ground.
I've learned other songs on the piano,
the fair doesn't come anymore until late September,
and those songs make me sad now instead of happy.
The pictures have gotten bent and corners broken off; they've put on a new wide screen and swinging chairs in the theater.
The people have grown older
and the knoll is a pool of lights after dark,
but the summers are still hot and that's about the only thing that hasn't changed
except that I still love you.