The Indian summer, the dead summer's soul...
My girl Irma:
Summer, you old Indian summer. You're the tear that comes after June-times laughter. You see so many dreams that don't come true. Dreams we fashioned when summertime was new....
My girl Irma:
Summer, you old Indian summer. You're the tear that comes after June-times laughter. You see so many dreams that don't come true. Dreams we fashioned when summertime was new....
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