Set the ground
Under me on fire
I don't care if summer
Ends in July or
Migrations begin
Months in advance
These feet need moving
Leave the rest to chance
I've always thought that I
Would know the change in tune
But as the leaves gather at my feet
I find that I have to make room
I've just started
Scaling the walls
Of the well that I fell down
Waiting for a call
To deliver the water
I'd been holding for some time
Knowing it wasn't mine
I've always thought that I
Would know the change in tune
But as the leaves gather at my feet
I find that I have to make room