The last few golden leaves    Are clinging tightly to their branches   Like they don't want to let go   Like they don't trust what they don't know.      It's not quite winter, and it's not quite fall   And even though it's been a year    I cannot pass you by, not at all   I tell myself, "enough"   My heart can't feel the reason   Why must we into the darkest season.      It's cold, getting colder   I dreamt last night of being older   I looked in the mirror, there was so much grey   If I saw you tomorrow, what would I say?   What could you say?      It's not that I'm not thankful, or grateful   To what we've grown.   It's not that I'm not living my life   Alright on my own.   I just feel the empty space   I just feel the wind blow through   I just thought in any case I would always know you.