Its autumn and she's leaving hanging lightly on the branch. You feel her slipping and you know she'll be gone with half a chance. So you hold her tighter as the wicked wind starts to make her dance. Even though shes walking away all her movements put you in a trance.
When she goes she leaves you hanging. Onto nothing but the empty breeze. But don't you dare bow down to her. Don't you get down on your knees. Brother please remember whose the leaf and whose the tree. As October turns November she may be gone but you are free.
My roots will sink down low and you'll be stuck where the cruel wind blows. You may find it gets you high but it will let you down so low you"ll die. The autumn moon will see me stay through the winter winds that wash your wicked soul away into grey.