The blackberries on the railway path are ripe.
  The woodland birds are quick to take their share,
while purple fingers pick amongst the hype
  and rabbits hop in the hedgerow somewhere.
A cool wind spirals, rustling fallen leaves,
  carrying distant cries along its way
and bending the amber-tinged tips of trees.
  The sound of summer joys are in decay.
They soften, becoming calmer, quiet,
  like tired eyes in need of time to sleep.
There are some feelings I cannot forget
  and memories I will forever keep.
Meet me along the railway path, my dear,
  to breathe the mellow, autumn atmosphere.

stuck in a prison of pain
my hands touch the bars
a little cage i find myself in
i hear something far away
****** sound of laugther
****** lies in my face
all the people seem so happy
you and your new lover
it all made me sick and tired
now the questions arise
guess my time has expired
my hands touch my ears
this life is such a dead end
what have i done wrong
why do i have to be strong
in a prison i don't belong
i crawl back and think it all over again
no more writing about you on the wall
no more other people to break my fall
the gates of hell are opened for me
maybe they want me back
maybe they want me just to see
the me has been taken from me
and i should go in to find
i embrace the darkness
i cry to clear my mind
in the prison of pain
it are my own hands that bind