Ninety-five degrees on the blacktop
I hear it’s cool on mars
used to be a dirt path behind our house
now just speeding european cars
and it’s too hot to play ball
so we sit and watch the summer fade
ninety-five degrees on the blacktop
ninety-four in the shade, yeah
ninety-four in the shade
well the heat was enormous
it felt like a gorgeous
blanket of indian clay
time drifting over use, stagnant like thunderclouds
pregnant and heavy with rain
this my town ain’t what it used to be
everything seems so much smaller than it was
this my town they’re cutting down the tree
where we carved out our love i can hear the buzz buzz
I can hear just what it was
i can hear the buzz buzz buzz
should have seen it comin’ back then
always time for change
they sent hustlin’ pete for a bundle of cash
and they call it an even trade
and it’s too hot to play ball
leather and string frayed at the seams
and the sweet hot smell of rain drenching
the pavement
blacktop tar now a field of dreams
Chorus
la de da, dai da dai, dai dai
la de da, dai da dai
ninety-five degrees on the blacktop
i hear it’s cool on mars
used to be a dirt path behind our house
now just speeding european cars
Robbie Schaefer ©1995 Mrs Jenkin’s Productions/ASCAP