[Intro] [Instrumental] [Verse] You’re learning how September must be worn, The legacy of summer’s dying ember. At dawn, fewer birds awake the morn, And rising feels more heavy to remember. [Bridge] [Verse] The leaves converse in whispers, tense and small, The fragile heavens lose their azure power. “To green attire I’ve never warmed at all,” Nature will whisper in Van Gogh’s ear: “turn flower.” [Instrumental] [Verse] Then autumn comes to claim her rightful reign, She drives your singers southward on their way. A yellow sadness filters through the vein, And buries summer’s time in yesterday. [Instrumental] [End]
