COMING OF FALL
There's a man too wobbly to stand
On the topside ledge of a mountain
Sitting... searching for the truth
For some worldly proof
Of an eternal fountain
ooh
Kneeling... He stares at his withered hands
All the while peeking
Over his shoulder
Feebly he attempts to stand
Sensing Northern winds
Blowing colder
ooh
Through a clear sky he enters into a haze
With wrinkles around his eyes
He gazes
To the west
But he forgets although he tries
He numbers his time in minutes not days
He wonders if time will let him save
But now the past has died...
The sun sets over a distant horizon
The calming darkness begins to call...
A breath of October quietly exhaled
There is no mistaking the coming of fall
There's no mistaking
There's no mistaking
There no mistaking
The coming of...
Fall