The last few golden leaves
Are clinging tightly to their branches
Like they don't want to let go
Like they don't trust what they don't know.
It's not quite winter, and it's not quite fall
And even though it's been a year
I cannot pass you by, not at all
I tell myself, "enough"
My heart can't feel the reason
Why must we into the darkest season.
It's cold, getting colder
I dreamt last night of being older
I looked in the mirror, there was so much grey
If I saw you tomorrow, what would I say?
What could you say?
It's not that I'm not thankful, or grateful
To what we've grown.
It's not that I'm not living my life
Alright on my own.
I just feel the empty space
I just feel the wind blow through
I just thought in any case I would always know you.