Walking on the wet September grasslands
Waiting for you as I smile to myself
The hours they swim through the rough shore of time
Ignoring the weather, welcoming the cold
My feet kicking off those tiny stones
They do not know where they belong
My head faced down, eyes staring at the ground
Oh, what an unusual treat
of curious mystery pumping through my veins
This silence, one may call it absurd
But right now, it's the tune to my song
The clock strikes twelve and yet
You are to be seen no where around
Is there ever going to be a limit to my madness?
I know the truth
I shan't be seeing you anymore
So, I walk my way back
Back the wet September grasslands
Smiling to myself
All the way home.