Seasons

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Hang her on the wall to dry
Wintry mix has struck again
Should’ve stayed in bed that day
Empty cries make fools of men

Let her rest there until spring
Trust that you can’t have nice things
Too good to be true, they say
Heed them and be on your way

She’ll be gone before they catch her,
leave you with the woe she found
Summer boasts of its potential,
pretty promises of other towns

Hard to take the feeling of
not knowing what you’re dealing with
Lose her now and do not feel
The autumn child is not real

(Oh but I am and I am lost
Lost I’ll stay, my fate is sealed)

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