The Early Evening
Autumn On The Rise
On the harvest square people rambling alongWith their boots and skins I feel autumn is on the riseLeaves crackle and fall and the artists flock to the woodsAnd the word-men squeeze pencils giving lifeOur short days get shorterOur long nights grow longerOur short days get shorterOur long nights grow longerMr. Moonshine brews his nightshadeBrews it hazy yellow and we dance through fields of pineYour eyes sparkle and the fragrance of your hairKeeps me writing, I'm bleeding out these linesOur short days get shorterOur long nights grow longerOur short days get shorterOur long nights grow longerOur short days get shorterOur long nights grow longer
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