The bianca Story - Dear Dead July | Текст песни

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• The bianca Story
• Dear Dead July

The salt taste of a losing game
and not knowing her first name -
but that was fine.
I knew this couldn't last,
she would sail away with me only in her mind.

Seasons rush, seasons die.
Dear dead July, keep bringing me my summer back.
Those wet nights at the ocean, paid off in devotion -
oh, dead July, you had your time.

I would cheer, I would sing,
I would pray just to make her laugh,
But all the boys said: 'Let it slide',
while she would stare like no one ever has.

Seasons rush, seasons die.
Dear dead July, keep bringing me my summer back.
Those wet nights at the ocean, paid off in devotion

Oh, dead July, keep bringing me my summer back.
Those wet nights at the ocean, paid off in devotion -
oh, dead July, you had your time.

Oh, dead July, keep bringing me my summer back.
Those wet nights at the ocean, paid off in devotion.
Oh, dead July, keep bringing me my summer back.
Those wet nights at the ocean, paid off in devotion -
oh, dead July, you had your time.
Oh, dead, dead, dead July.

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