Though the same could be said
For the leaves turning red
You cannot say it about me
I'm just the wind in the trees
Though the same cannot be said
Of the mold on the bread
You could duly compare
The falling leaves with her hair
Many tongues and many voice
Fill their lungs with many choices
But there is only one Path to choose
I hope you brought your walking shoes\
Your walking shoes
Though the same could be said
For every mouth that goes unfed
What you've been told is not news
The young and old both sing the blues
They sing the blues
They sing the blues
Though the same cannot be said
for the calf that has been bled
The leaves are gold as honeydews
The autumn wind sings the blues
It sings the blues
It sings the blues