Days of sun

Trying to think, write, read, anything, in this goddamn heat, knowing that there’s really only one thing you can do; to lay by the lake, all day and night, watching the sun rise and set, time ticking away. So we lay, with sunrays burning our bodies, playing cards, and I watch the young lovers at my side, who finally dare to touch, though there are eyes everywhere, and there is nothing else. The sun can't really cool us down any longer, an a sensation in my skin tells me that the tone of it is slowly switching.
There is no hunger, and there is no sleep. The lovebirds rest, cuddled-up at the very rock where I stretch out my drained body, thinking that this is by far the best escape.

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And now, watching the rain pouring down, after another day by the lake, where you forgot every thought to have ever wheightened your mind, does it come back to you?

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Igår, efter stranden, var bara den här låten:

"You were laying on the carpet
like you're satin in a coffin.
You said, "Do you believe what you're sayin'?"
Yeah right now, but not that often.

Are you dead or are you sleepin'?
Are you dead or are you sleepin'?
Are you dead or are you sleepin'?
God, I sure hope you are dead."

Och frustration.

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Och jag är tom, värmen suger ut allt. The best escape ey?