Somewhere in the sky it's harvest time

Looking at the things I've left behind

Crow is singing in the reckled (sp?) light

In the back of his mind something's right

Whisper in my ear, tell me this

That the branch is getting thin

I can see the stop just up one more mile

It's coming 'round the bend



Leaves are crunching underneath the feet

Cold is on the face, red with heat

Bring yourself inside, face the fire

Cold is out there now, frozen wire

See you standing here on the bay

Wind blows your hair, your eyes they're glazed

And I thought I could come down

Stare into the water, see your face again

Or I could climb the tree outside your house