Last Ding of Summer

I play

the same eight bars four thousand times a

day. The children hear a

party. I hear the same

eight bars.

Ding, ding — here comes summer.

Ding, ding — here comes summer.

Ding, ding — here comes summer,

and then here comes it again.

A boy ran out in ninety-one with fifty in his fist,

He's forty-six, he's got a car,

he doesn't hear me now.

The road's the same.

The song's the same.

The freezer's on its way out.

Ding, ding — here comes summer.

Ding, ding — here comes summer.

Ding. Ding. Ding—