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Hawksley Workman >>
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 crumby
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
It's ok if you want to cry
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 haldane hill
From old berlin
Be hard to keep it
Well in tune
With winters like the one
That is coming soon
Auntumn's here
It's time to cry now
I think that ghosts like
The cooler weather
When leaves turn colour
They get together
And walk along
These old back roads
Where no one lives
And no one goes
With all their hopes set
On the railway
That never came
So no one stayed
I guess that autumn
Gets you remembering
And the smallest things
Just make you cry.
Autumn's here.
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