When words sprout limbs And grow as trees in the summertime Steadily until they bare their fruit Then my thoughts will be hanging within reach Would you pluck them as you'd pluck some fruit? And take a tiny bite of me Or at least of my thoughts? Would you, wouldn't you?
Would you, wouldn't you?
This might be a duplicate... I'll look into it later.
Before the autumn comes Before the trees are torn by the harsh winds And the world is consumed by leafy snow
Before the fires edge and burn out slow And dark soiled Earth is turned to rust
Before the autumn comes again and then I will find myself Once more and last In the springtime of my youth the pass
For there my fate will not be determined For all are falling, all are fast
But before the autumn comes again I will outstretch my strong summer arms And try and hold the winter back
In the springtime of my youth to pass
In October I do battle and each war is always different. It's no longer about making enemies or friends. It's not about ME or this frail human history. It's about the blessing of being able to try and fail. The freedom to be without restraints for a few days (like when I was a younger guy). That freedom to me means oh-so-much.