You can tell
By the wind
By fresh cut wood all stacked to dry
That autumn's here
And it makes you sad
About the crummy
Summer we had
With pine trees creeking
The raven's screeching
Just like the story my grandma tells
About when a bird
Hits your window
And someone you know
Is about to die
Autumn's here, autumn's here
It's ok if you want to cry 'cause autumn's here
So find a sweater
And you'll be better
Until the kindling is tinder dry
We can be quiet
As we walk down
To see the graveyard
Where they are now
I wonder how
They brought their piano
To holdene hill
From old berlin
Be hard to keep it
That well in tune
With winters like the one
That's coming soon
Cause auntumn's here
It's time to cry now
That autumn's here
It's ok if you want to cry
Because autumn's here
I think that ghosts like
The cooler weather
When leaves turn colour
They get together
And walk along ways
These old back roads
Where no one lives
And no one goes
With all their hopes set
On the railway
That never came and that no one stayed
I guess that autumn
Gets you remembering
And the smallest things
Just make you cry
Autumn's here
It's time to cry
Cause autumn's here
Autumn's here
It's ok now, cause autumn's here
Hawksley Workman
Friday, October 27, 2006
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
This is exactly the way my wife feels about Autumn, though we live considerably south of Canada. She wants to cry when she sees the leaves turn.
Post a Comment