Leaves they have been changing. My mind its sure been stranging. Am I going forward or are you coming from behind? The leaves they are a falling, these words I am not calling. From the trees they drop and the rain comes from the sky. Leaves are pretty as a shade of green, we’re at the time somewhere inbetween. Brown and yellow leaves falling on the ground.
Will your leaves be falling on the ground?
When the leaves start growing is this something that were knowing, or do we wake, rise and shine, see the leaves in a different light? There’s no telling, there’s not saying. The winds howling, what’s it saying? Just a whisper that will blow these leave around.
Am I leaving or am I staying? Will my mind keep a swaying, left to right, up and down, when will my leaves find the ground? These leaves are no more falling. The stage has my name calling. See you soon in a dirent town. Will your leaves be standing, flying, or falling to the ground.