summer has dried up this brook
and the autumn has fallen all over this forest floor
the black-eyed susans are already bidding farewell
and it's just begun august, though i smell september in here
i hear it at my feet and think of holding your hand in the forest
oh flirt with love, but don't dare love me
oh take my hand, but never my heart
it is so still, but not as still as cold
i could blink and find it is winter
i could breathe and there you'd be
there's always so much to september
there's always so deep in the green
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