My displays are astounding I regress to an infants zeal Because I hate everything around me And need to tell you how I feel Tell you things of sugar rain And crystal mines of lore Cuddle my ribs with pure disdain As my body washes to the shore Hey man little village Hey ya the leaves are brown Hey man the trees are changing Hey ya they're falling down Symposiums with the fey are symptomatic of enchantment (Or insanity) Seeing beyond a day Of desolute drudgery The eyes in my head keep assuming I am dead (Those whispers from the back of my head) And the fear of living is the wound of Re-living what another might have Said. Hey man little village Hey ya the leaves are brown Hey man the trees are changing Hey ya they're falling down Crickets outside are singing so Sleepless nights feel less lonely Cannot decipher which side of me Is dreaming when I'm awake till Early morning. Hey man little village Hey ya the leaves are brown Hey man the trees are changing Hey ya they're falling down.