| There is a magic that lives in the summer in a small town
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| From the outside it looks absolutely ordinary
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| But there is a magic that comes when the warm wind blows through the trees again
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| A magic that comes when the sun starts to show her face again
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| It’s a life that comes after the storm
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| It’s all the streets that we’ve driven about a thousand times before
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| It’s running through sprinklers and getting soaked
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| It’s having your time all to yourself again
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| It’s ice cream, and long walks at night
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| It’s sitting under stars, and on parking garage roofs
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| It’s letting yourself fall for the first time
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| It’s that golden hour before the sun sets
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| Which is the closest we can get to tangibly feeling magic
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| It’s losing friends, and somehow finding new ones
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| It’s lonely nights when you wish you just had someone to hold your hand
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| It’s warm nights, starry skies
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| Finally feeling seen by his brown eyes
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| It’s learning to trust in a quiet peace inside
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| It’s phone calls and fireflies
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| It’s coming alive for the first time
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| I’ve lived these summers countless times before
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| But I never really felt the magic until he came along
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| And even if he’s gone before the leaves change
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| I’m okay if he only lives in the neurons in my brain
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| And even if we never speak again, the memories mattered
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| He mattered, I mattered, and we mattered
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| Even though stars burn out, and sunsets fade
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| Even though time marches on like the phases of the moon
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| The thing about life is that it’s not ours to keep
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| It’s ours to live until we have to return it
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| We can only do our best with every breath we are given
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| We have to find the magic everywhere we can
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| And even though everything else may change
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| Summers in a small town always stay the same |