Changeover

© 2012 Midnight Island Music

The sun is bright, the air is cold
My good ideas are getting old
The walks I take, familiar skies
Are filled with faltering surprise

The lake is lower than before
The leaves grow redder by the door
The night is closing on the day
And every moment seems to say

That I would write a different play
Change my grip and seize the day
Make a noise like a hoop and roll away
But I'm held by these hooks in my heart

The house falls dark on private lives
The happy few, the merry wives
The upstairs room is winding down
The long road runway out of town

They've taken off the evening train
Come in or stay out in the rain
The swans survive until the spring
By doing hardly anything

And I would write a different play
Change my grip and seize the day
Make a noise like a hoop and roll away
But I'm held by these hooks in my heart