|
Don't tell me |
|
That you get sick of living |
|
When the summer's so forgiving although we have stolen |
|
All of the things that we though we had owned then |
|
Have disappeared |
|
All these things in flavour |
|
Won't do you no favours |
|
When the summer's light is fragrant with scents of returning |
|
You relent, you resent, now you're burning |
|
For nothing to change.... |
|
There's something there... |
|
(amongst the fallen fruit and flowers) |
|
Won't rest |
|
(only minutes, only hours) |
|
Unless |
|
(now the morning breaks in showers) |
|
I guess |
|
We'll remember this all of our lives |
|
On the last good day of the year |
|
All the leaves are turning |
|
Autumn's fingers burnished |
|
Furnished here in hope and in faith in the meantime |
|
Kinda working my way through a dream |
|
I was having alone |
|
There's something there... |
|
(amongst the fallen fruit and flowers) |
|
Won't rest |
|
(only minutes, only hours) |
|
Unless |
|
(now the morning breaks in showers) |
|
I'm left |
|
With the north wind breathing down my neck... |
|
On the last good day of the year..... |
|
(don't know where i end and where you begin...) |