Sycamore

Earnest plans made months before Foretold lies not meaning to, meaning to Warm words from the warm of heart So much colder now they've gone Now they've gone Now they've gone Can't expect decisions that we've made To solidify and to remain As intended Don't set the table for me Just let the dust settle baby This year's been a fable I'm still turning its leaves Muse on spring hiding away, hibernating Sycamore seeds spiralling Could we now begin again, begin again Fill those empty promises Promises Promises Leafless forests hands outstretched to me Plead in vain for my return to thee Don't set the table for me Just let the dust baby This year's been a fable I'm still turning its leaves Don't set the table for me Once this dust settles baby I'll just be a fable Spiralling like those sycamore seeds