Autumn seems to be such a melancholic time for poets, artists, musicians, a time for reflection, a metaphor for the good times drawing to a close, for dying…but a chance also to refresh perhaps.
Maybe Autumn
Face it up, you’re the misfit
Wishing you could see another path
Maybe you’ve reached your limit
And next year you’ll have a better plan
Autumn mists are superior
Shroud your failures in their unholy swathe
Maybe you were pushed to the edge
And soon enough you’ll find a clearer day
It’s not a day you can wander
Climb the hills just to catch the view
Another day when you wonder, in the end
Will you see it through?
Can you see it through?
Finding out you’re not the misfit
Knowing now they can see it’s true
Maybe then they’ll push those limits
And soon enough they’ll see the world anew
It’s not a day you can wander
Climb the hills just to catch the view
Another day when you wonder, in the end
Will you see it through?
Will you see it through?
Maybe you’ll see it’s true
You can pull through
