Two lonely people sit together on a lonely street
The table is broken and wobbles when he leans.
They are not lonely when they can’t remember,
And they hold on to their forgetting like winter to September.

He speaks and she smiles,
He laughs like a child.
They nod and the sigh as they both sadly say
‘it’s so easy to be separate when the world looks away’

‘I prefer to be unknown than loved and alone’
He stops laughing when she says this, she goes quiet and lips are still.
He’s got dirt beneath his fingers, she’s got lines across her hand,
‘I’m glad we can be quiet and still we understand.’

‘do you recall, our graceful fall, into the passionate pit of love.’
‘I could not forget the day that we met, nor the day we could call it love.’
‘It was September, I still remember. A cool setting day, the sun far away,
And you were closer than ever.’

They say ‘don’t be sad’.
She smiles and she shrugs, glad she has loved, but knows now they are both very old.
‘we’re both very old’ he says he feels cold,
‘I feel cold when I do not feel you.’


They’ve got lines 'round their eyes, and coats that haven’t dried, because the air is heavy and damp.
‘It feels like September, with you and me; remember?’
He’s the best thing she’s known, but it's a lonely throne,
and they know that too well.

The sky is not quite blue, it is a sad and quiet hue,
The milky white and silvery bright of the clouds can stain the skies,
Better than she or he can hide their teary eyes.
Both don their coats, and play their final notes, as they smile and say goodbye.

Two quiet people walk a quiet street.
They both feel the cool earth beneath their feet.
They are happy when they can remember,
The childish grins and the strings of September.