I wonder if December talked to June, July and May
and somehow got confused like many humans are today
another conversation I've been having in my head
do seasons speak in words like us, a language that is dead?
perhaps we ate the fruit unripe and hastily denied
the days we have are measured in the 2's and 4's of time
no second can we add but many seconds can we waste
by calling on tomorrows like a destiny to chase
today the sun is moving but the moon will never know
tonight has come too early, asked the wintertime to go