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