LYRICS

Hook: 
Dreams in summer make my day 
I can close my eyes and wander 
To the place I want to stay 
And even if the time slips past 
In reality's altered maze 
I could think... 

Hot summer day 
Carry me along 
Hot summer day 
Please carry me along 

Verse:
Hot summer wrong number 
Niggas still feel the chills 
Call your momma for the hunger 
Niggas can't pay the bills 
She struggles, we hustle 
All about that dollar bill 
Yet and still same boat 
No sea, water's gone 
No more happy days 
No milk or honeycomb 
Fuck it, let me enjoy the weather 
Leave me alone
Rather be up in my own world 
Sitting on my throne 
Watching it
The sun make the gold glist'n 
I'm opposite
Reality calls I don't answer shit 
Stop it! 
All I want is clear skies 
Global warming gorgeous (beautiful) 
Naked bitches running 'round 
The sun hangs like an ornament 
Water's clear to the bottom 
You can go skinny dip 
Even though it's boiling 
Ain't no warning 
At least it's safe to sip 
I promise you 
Cross my heart
You can just let 'er rip 
This my world my dream 
You should stay a bit 
You can thank me later 
See it's greater when you think of it 

(Hook)

You wanna know the secret? 
Just leave it
All that bad news and negativity 
Don't feed it
Even if it means your own world 
You can't see it 
Think hot summer days my nigga 
So be it
Fake it till you make it real 
Close your eyes and see it 
You'll wake up in your dream land in no time 
Guarantee it 
Or your life back 
Before it cracks upon the cement 
Bet you come back crying when you need it 

Long summer dreams 
Sliding 'round my mind 

See it's fine when it's blind
And you can control time 
And make your whole world's own design 
Like mine

Those long summer dreams 
Are leaving me behind 

Close your eyes and make a wish 
that you could just forget 
and turn shit to sugar real quick 
like this.. 

(Hook)

Produced by @TheBins
Vocals by @NardoSays
Mixed & mastered by Atilla Ural
Cover art by Çiğdem Paçal

Dreams Of Summer (feat. Nardo)

From rocks to coins to comic cards, Clark Barclay was a kid obsessed with collecting. Today, his grown-up fixation lives in the secondhand bins. Using rummaged found sounds, percussion instruments from all over the world, and strictly dollar bin records, The Bins tediously arranges sonic fragments into a mosaic; capturing an array of genres, cultures, and histories.