In the Autumn leaves, our souls will start to heave
In the spring air, we became a pair
And the ghosts of seasons supply endless reasons
With flowers taped to pens and things left to mend
My trifle with your disease is pulling me under
Buried beneath these streets, I'm calling for clarity
Will winter come or will this fall be permanent?
It doesn't matter, I am still unable
Always looking forward to the next year
Always looking forward to the next year
Stuck in this cycle, 4 times a year
Change is unnatural, keeping me on my toes