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Blitzkid
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Dead Again
It was a late summer evening
of flowered simplicity.
Two lovers walked down a path
bound by their mutual anxiety.
The breeze was warm and it passed with no threat
of any of the orange tinged leaves.
Two lovers gazes locked inside a season that more than breathed...
it was alive.
She's not coming back, my friend.
She's not coming back, my friend.
She's not coming back, my friend.
Bring on the Fall. She's Dead Again.
That quiet girl that he loved
Followed, always, the clockwise sun.
Sun rays, and dandelion parades
trumpeted all of her returns.
He waded, waiting, wistful, all alone
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in the singing grass, the singing grass.
Who's song withered to a brown, deathly moan saying
'She's not coming back.'
She's not coming back, my friend.
She's not coming back, my friend.
She's not coming back, my friend.
Bring on the Fall. She's dead again.
If that boy ever thaws again,
his blue eyes will blacken.
If happiness ever returns to him,
it's trust he'll be lacking.
God, stop this icy season
and its hungry branches.
Bring on the Fall
Bring on the Fall, again.
She's dead again...
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