September days are the nicest days of the years.
Everything changes and green turns to brown in your eyes.
Anticipating anxiety and disbelief.
September days are the nicest days of the years.
I've been painting the windows of your hotel.
The sidewalks are straining to catch me and keep me the night.
Anticipating the shadows changing, week by week.
I've been painting the windows of your hotel.
All along the streets are strangers filing into town
But you and I must save a place for shadows on the ground.
September days are the nicest days of the year.