I attribute failure to a dusty excuse
Effectively dulled by excess use
Then I change the conditions
Conditioning my means for a fall
I'll register next fall.
I hope it will all register by then
The things I'm supposed to know
Everything I should have done before
Prolonging my longing
Romantic in a way
The stages of sweet decay
Like early fall
Full of promise, dirt covered by leaves
Give me a reason to fabricate
This is the season I suffocate
I rake in nothing again
A gain as foreign to me as success
I'll sleep through the winter
Next fall...
Yeah,
I'll know how to pick myself up by then.
