I Know Where The Summer Goes

I Know Where The Summer Goes Lyrics

I know where the summer goesWhen you’re having no funWhen you’re under the thumbI know where the summer dwellsIf your underarm smellsAnd your kitchen looks like hellI know where the summer goesIf you’re scraping a pot, and your head is hotPut your head down, put your thumbs up girlWith the smell of hot deskAnd the glitter of your stepHe was right, he’s the upcoming guru of the cityNo one told the city councillorsI know, you can tell me againI’ve got my mobile phoneFull of silicon chipsNo one likes a smart arseBut I’ve seen a pattern emergeI will race you up the hillWhere the boy who made records out of postcard messagesAnd flowering cherries rain on kids like youLook twice at the kid with the crimpedAnd overheated hairThey ran a book on his looksOdds on was the noble pose andThe denim hard riff of the irish troubadourBut the boy came from nowhere toSteal the hearts of lassies in the lavvies of the club tonight