Chickadee tosses leaves out of her nester
My uncle's, uncle's, uncle's, Fester to Chestnut's empty sound
One by one they hit the ground
It's fall and it's warm and I've got a sweater
Tell me nothing, nothing's better
The flowers wilt from the weight of the leaves
But it's not the cold, it's the dryness
That makes it so groovy
Believe you me, believe me you, let it roll
God cues his trees to drop their load
I've got some used cowboy boots
You've got some weed
It's a noisy cracked accumulation
Of golden brown, Mr. Brown's first born
Can anyone get it? It's not too obvious
Two friends locked in a Dutch romance
It's the angry middle aged distraction
Your postman stumbles in the yard with a message long
You communicate through song
And take it up with the vicar
Believe you me, believe me you
Grateful for the score
The nuts today you store
Could come in handy in the future

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