summertime blues

it's a terminal case
nothing to do
it's a hopeless chase
the days are sad; few

here's july
thirty-one
summer'll die
the end of fun

a good teacher friend
compared our summers
to one weekend:
the sunday bummers

june was like a friday
let's start the fun
relax and waste away
summer's just begun

july, it was a saturday
just got midway through
though we had some time to play
what came next we knew

august is the sunday
of what was weekend bliss
no buffer between work and play
all that's left is this:

minute by minute, no more cushion
draggin heels, pullin and pushin
don't want to see this good time go
wishin time would stop, or slow

playin singin dancin laughin with all our might,
good lord, what's happened? suddenly sunday night
i gotta get up tomorrow morning
do i deserve such sorrow, such mourning?

but here's what makes it okay
seein those kids on the very first day
the first weeks of august i've stapled, shelved, and prepared
no escaping now, but who'd want to? i'm not scared.