I'm standing in the middle of a changing season, Where summer's warmth meets autumn's hush and reason.
Leaves are falling, crunching under my feet, I'm holding on while everything slips through my hands.
In every falling leaf there's a story told, Bittersweet in the burnished, turning gold.
Change ain't the end—it's how hearts learn to start, A slow re-mapping of the maps inside my heart.
I could close the door and keep the light the same, O Do not mention sound effects or instruments in the lyrics.
I'm standing in the middle of a changing season, Where summer's warmth meets autumn's hush and reason.
Leaves are falling, crunching under my feet, I'm holding on while everything slips through my hands.
In every falling leaf there's a story told, Bittersweet in the burnished, turning gold.
Change ain't the end—it's how hearts learn to start, A slow re-mapping of the maps inside my heart.
In every falling leaf there's a story told, Bittersweet in the burnished, turning gold.
I learned a lesson where I used to stand.
I'm standing in the middle of a changing season, Where summer's warmth meets autumn's hush and reason.
Leaves are falling, crunching under my feet, I'm holding on while everything slips through my hands.
In every falling leaf there's a story told, Bittersweet in the burnished, turning gold.
Change ain't the end—it's how hearts learn to start, A slow re-mapping of the maps inside my heart.
First chill finds a collar of my coat, Wood smoke rides a ribbon where the sky broke.
A porch light spills like a folded photograph, A folding chair creaks with the weight of what I have.
Sent to damp earth after the brief warm rain, A distant laughter calls the old name.
Fingers still tracing the groove of the past, A hush that answers and it doesn't have to last.
I breathe the dusk, let the cool reach in, The world rearranges where love has been.
I'm standing in the middle of a changing season, Where summer's warmth meets autumn's hush and reason.
Leaves are falling, crunching under my feet, I'm holding on while everything slips through my hands.
In every falling leaf there's a story told, Bittersweet in the burnished, turning gold.
Change ain't the end—it's how hearts learn to start, A slow re-mapping of the maps inside my heart.
I found a packed box on the kitchen floor, Letters tied with twine and a porch swing that swung no more.
A folding map in the pocket of an old June coat, Marks that were green in the edges of the note.
I could close the door and keep the light the same.
In the middle of a changing season, Where summer's warmth meets autumn's hush and reason.
