They call it Summer Romance for a reason.
These feelings, they will die and fade by the end of the season.
You'll no longer try to hold my hand.
You'll finally see me for who I really am.
I'm just an animal who learned to speak in notes and prose and hand-me-down melodies.

Just a boy who tries his best to sing clearly and honestly.
Just a boy who falls in love too quickly with almost every woman he meets.
Just a boy who wants to know your name so he can write it down for himself and throw it away.
A frame of reference for the way your hair used to hang over your face.

They call it Summer Romance for a reason.
But bleeding hearts still bleed and seep into next season.
Like a pad of paper and a felt-tip pen, turn the page and there you are again.
Just a frame of reference for how all of this began and why it must end.

Just a boy who tries his best to sing clearly and honestly.
Just a boy who falls in love too quickly with almost every woman he meets.
Just a boy who wants to know your name so he can write it down for himself and throw it away.
A methodical routine to forever be afraid of first kisses, near misses and knees that accidentally touch.

Tell me, why can't we just act like we're adults?