Contains a sample of "Lisa" by Santo and Johnny. Some of the opening lyrics were recycled from a song Pulp performed live in 1987 called My First Wife.
We made our way slowly down the path that led to the stream, swaying slightly, drunk on the sun, I suppose. It was a real summer's day. The air humming with heat, whilst the trees beckoned us into their cool green shade. And when we reached the stream, I put a bottle of cider into the water to chill, both of us knowing that we'd drink it long before it had chance.
This is where you want to be
there's nothing else but you and her
and how you spend your time
Walking to parties whilst it's still light outside. Peter was upset at first, but now he's in the garden talking to somebody Polish. Why don't we set up a tent and spend the night out there? And we can pretend that we're somewhere foreign, but we'll still be able to use the fridge, if we get hungry, or too hot.
This is where you want to be
there's nothing else but you and her
and how you use your time
We went driving
This is where you want to be
there's nothing else but you and her
and how you use your time
Your time
Your time
The room smells faintly of sun tan lotion in the evening sunlight, and when you take off your clothes, you're still wearing a small pale skin bikini. The sound of children playing in the park comes from faraway, and time slows down to the speed of the specks of dust floating in the light from the window.
Summer leaves fall from summer trees
Summer grazes fade on summer knees
Summer nights are slowly getting long
Summer's going so hurry soon it'll be gone
So we went out to the park at midnight one last time. Past the abandoned glasshouse stuffed full of dying palms. Past the bandstand and down to the boating lake. And we swam in the moonlight for what seemed like hours, until we couldn't swim anymore.
And as we came out of the water we both sensed a certain movement in the air, and we both shivered slightly, and we ran to collect our clothes. And as we walked home, we could hear the leaves curling and turning brown on the trees, and the birds deciding where to go for the winter. And the whole sound, the whole sound of summer packing its bags and preparing to leave town.
Oh, but I want you to stay
Oh, please stay for a while
Please stay for a while
I don't want to live in the cold
it is featured in david nicolls book 'sweet sorrow'