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Description
Sitting on the swings of an isolated playground with the oldest kind of friend
After taking a walk on the last day of fall
The sun teasing us with one last embrace of warmth, before it’s lost tomorrow
I never wanted anything more that what I had

But wouldn’t it be nice to see the colors again
Letting my simple mind trip on the spectrum of the autumn leaves
And to laugh at how we must cover our eyes from the rising sun
Tell me my friend, when did I get so cold?

Surely it wasn’t in the park where my mother used to take me
With the locals controlling their toy boats and feeding the ducks
And certainly not through the eyes of the coffee house windows in the big city
Where the winter wind barely missed hitting my face, by a pane of glass

I wish you could reassure me and let me know I am more than packed dirt
But I understand that your heels have been calloused by the same road
And I would never ask from you to share your bread
Because I deserve only half of what I already get

One day my friend, your hair is going to turn gold
And every thought I ever had is going to be confirmed
Then I will give you my blessing and finally be on my way
Deciding against taking the next fork in the road, and settling for sleep.

Description
Sitting on the swings of an isolated playground with the oldest kind of friend
After taking a walk on the last day of fall
The sun teasing us with one last embrace of warmth, before it’s lost tomorrow
I never wanted anything more that what I had

But wouldn’t it be nice to see the colors again
Letting my simple mind trip on the spectrum of the autumn leaves
And to laugh at how we must cover our eyes from the rising sun
Tell me my friend, when did I get so cold?

Surely it wasn’t in the park where my mother used to take me
With the locals controlling their toy boats and feeding the ducks
And certainly not through the eyes of the coffee house windows in the big city
Where the winter wind barely missed hitting my face, by a pane of glass

I wish you could reassure me and let me know I am more than packed dirt
But I understand that your heels have been calloused by the same road
And I would never ask from you to share your bread
Because I deserve only half of what I already get

One day my friend, your hair is going to turn gold
And every thought I ever had is going to be confirmed
Then I will give you my blessing and finally be on my way
Deciding against taking the next fork in the road, and settling for sleep.