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Falling leaves,
Flaming hues,
Etched with frost.
Falling leaves,
Each a piece,
Of something lost.

Do I have regrets? Sure, I got' em
They come on like the flu, 'round about Autumn
Take me from the top, drop me right at the bottom
Yeah, I got some regrets.

I got stacks of old dreams, like yesterday's news
All yellowed and wrinkled, torn and abused
They fly 'round in my head whenever they choose
I got stacks of dried-up old dreams.

Plans I was makin' paths not taken
I've been looking for handouts, 'stead of bringin' home bacon
Thought the world was my oyster, guess I was mistaken
Yeah, I was makin' those plans.

Now I sit and I fiddle as the days grow short
Dreams of champagne, while drinkin' cheap port
Ya got a quarter pal? C'mon, be a sport.
I'm just sittin' and fiddlin'.

When the winds start blowin', and the air has a chill
You pray Summer never ends, but you know that it will
All your dreams slip through your fingers like an old dollar bill
When those chill winds start blowin'.

So you better put up the storms and take down the screens
'Cause last night the mercury was down in the teens
The gutters are all clogged with dried-up old dreams
Yeah, I'd put up those storms, if I was you.

Falling leaves,
Flaming hues,
Etched with frost.
Falling leaves,
Each a piece,
Of something lost.
Falling leaves.



I've written a whole lot of songs, but very few poems (which for me are the words you read when you can't yet hear the tune) but this WU was inspired by the one and only Tom Waits. I just haven't written the music yet.

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