Last August

I remember last August- you were wearing that dress your mother says is too tight
I think it fits fine, so she’s probably right.
I had the moonshine and you had the rye, chasing the dawn we tried to rub smiles
If you’d known a creek or I’d known a stream
we’d have slipped into our skins and tried to come clean
In Nashville. Just outside of Nashville. Last August. Last August.

Now in Boston- I’m pretty sure you planned to surprise me.
Well it worked like a charm- yeah you were surprising.
You were wearing your makeup but biting my style, striking a pose that held nothing to hide.
It’s not batting your lashes, you swing for the fences,
you were hitting a thousand it was almost offensive
In Boston. Just outside of Boston. Last August. Last August

Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Don’t you love my lies?
Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Don’t apologize.

Remember the District? We made out like bandits.
Not that kind of made-out. You know what I’m talking about.
We packed that attic, they were calling your name,
they wanted an encore and pushed you back to the stage
We filled up that basement, drunken and sweaty,
it started raining things got kinda heavy.
In DC. Right there in the District. Last August. Last August.

Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Don’t you love my lies?
Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Don’t apologize.