Where will we be
When summer's gone

Morning found us calmly unaware
Noon burn gold into our hair
At night, we swim the laughin' sea

When summer's gone
Where will we be

We had some good times
But they're gone
The winter's comin' on

Summer's almost gone

The Doors


I love this song. For some reason, it always comes to my mind at the beginning of July, as a soft remembrance of last year's cold, as a gentle warning of the cold to come, as a kind of "carpe diem". It used to make me sad, now I see it as a chance. "They are lucky, who don't notice whether it's winter now, or summer", Chekhov wrote.

I say, they're lucky, who have a song.

And summer's not gone, anyway.