Laying halfway covered in a pile of leaves
Wanting to know what it's like to be buried
The winter months have made it hard to breathe
Exhaling roughly as your lungs recede
The haunting touch that creeps in each November
A seasonal breach in conscious emotional filter
Filled with mistakes that litter the past
You're Standing there too scared to react
A handprint mark on the glass
Where you watched it leave
And it never came back
Those ever so inviting phantom hands
That spoon feed everything that you tried forget
They make their way around neck
Give up now while the wound is fresh
Get comfortable and settle in
Get comfortable and settle in
The haunting touch that creeps in each November
A seasonal breach in conscious emotional filter
Filled with mistakes that litter the past
You're Standing there too scared to react
A handprint mark on the glass
Where you watched it leave
And it never came back
Tapping on the windows
Pacing the cage while you're laying in bed
Coming in through the back door
Leaving it open for a clean exit