They will fall,one by one,
Like leaves from trees,
They will get what they want,
And then scuttle away,
Because there is no longer
A reason to stay.
Like leaves from trees,
They will get what they want,
And then scuttle away,
Because there is no longer
A reason to stay.
It will be us,still here,
Year after year,
Maybe we are the trees?
Always rooted and never free.
Year after year,
Maybe we are the trees?
Always rooted and never free.
The leaves, they never ask us,
What we feel, or what we've seen?
Only concerned with what
They have been!
What we feel, or what we've seen?
Only concerned with what
They have been!
They will fall,
Like leaves from trees,
Used, brown and crisp,
Deciding they have nothing
Left to give, or gain,
And when the leaves drift off,
The trees, remain.
Like leaves from trees,
Used, brown and crisp,
Deciding they have nothing
Left to give, or gain,
And when the leaves drift off,
The trees, remain.
(Picture -'Pinterest)'
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