I look on to see the lowly air,

for the sounds of summer was there,

a calm soothing tune,

to the aggressive gasping of another's drum.

The loud buzzing fills my ears,

with everything to hear.

Yet it's in this happy year,

that our outspoken friends appear,

darkened bodies with blood-stained eyes,

you look like ghosts of the old grey past,

but the sounds of your drums hammer my head,

even as I dive into my bed.

The chilling sparks of your loud zing,

and the quiet flick of the girls' wings.

Through the forests through the lands,

I always manage to get you somehow in my hands.

As the days slip by our lives,

the songs you sing are giving me hives,

And in the shadowy days of July,

You still sing before you say good-bye.

As the warm winds of summer sweeps through,

your songs begin to drop into the blue.

But no fear my friends,

Even the last of you already said your amends,

we still love your hated noise,

for it's still prettier than my voice,

across the fields where you once stood,

I can only awe at the desolate sight,

down in the tree trunks of the shady wood,

your presence still am alight.

with your left over skins and cracking sap stains,

your marks don't even smear in the rains.

And when you're gone without any queers,

all I know is that you'll be back in seventeen years.