Don't tell me   that you get sick of living    when the summer's so forgiving    although we have stolen    all of the things that we though    we had owned then    have disappeared       all these things in flavour    won't do you no favours    when the summer's light is fragrant    with scents of returning    you relent, you resent, now you're burning    for nothing to change....       there's something there...    (amongst the fallen fruit and flowers)    won't rest    (only minutes, only hours)    unless    (now the morning breaks in showers)    I guess    we'll remember this all of our lives    on the Last Good Day of The Year       all the leaves are turning    Autumn's fingers burnished    furnished here in hope and in faith in the meantime    kinda working my way through a dream I    was having alone       there's something there...    (amongst the fallen fruit and flowers)    won't rest    (only minutes, only hours)    unless    (now the morning breaks in showers)    I'm left    with the North Wind breathing down my neck...       on The Last Good Day of The Year.....    (don't know where I end and where you begin...)