The solitary summer breeze
is kissing my pale face.
The world is singing "let it be"
because too soon it will be too late.
September sirens are returning,
I've always loved those grey winged birds,
carrying with them the chill of autumn.
When it's all under control,
out drops the bottom,
and all that's left is broken words.
Destroy me and abuse me
rip a hole and walk right through me,
leave me shaking in the streets,
and don't look back to see me.
I am the grande pretender,
singing with swallows
that are bound for the south.
I look past my window,
and I surrender
to the lyrics of the lake
that escape through my mouth.
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