New Fall

leaves are reminders the small fallen signpost you are going cold under the bleachers you can't hide forever the air has grown old what you wanted to say has now all blown away frozen the dirt roads the ruts become guides and you're mind you're confined stumbling backwards to where you'll end up and it's all been defined it's the force of the cold and the chances you've sold and I'm killing this time but it's not really mine don't give me the wide eyes and act like you don't know these small towns have ways of making you feel sorry don't tell me, i know i'm off pulling your hair and you don't seem to care you're no fun anymore blaming the brown of the sky and the ground you're so easily bored it's the force of the cold and the chances you've sold and i'm killing this time but it's not really mine don't give the wide eyes and act like you don't know these small towns have ways of making you feel sorry don't tell me, i know