Every August your music slipped away
By November, 15 coming' my way
Every August I try to change my ways
But all it reminds me of is your Haze
When I think of a bottle of Wine
It reminds me of how you used to be mine
I would cancel all my plans just in case I got a call
Hoping you would ask to meet behind the mall
When I see rust on the porch
All I can think about is the rust on your bedroom door