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. [perfectpullquote align=”right” bordertop=”false” cite=”” link=”” color=”” class=”” size=””]Will your leaves be falling on the ground?[/perfectpullquote]
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 different town. Will your leaves be standing, flying, or falling to the ground?