| The door to memory is wide open, all things are locked up,
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| Boasting with the ringing of frets under the arm falsely,
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| And from the days I have lived, I cannot force myself to leave,
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| I collected all the minors from the strings with my sad song.
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| And they itch like an annoying fly at the very heart,
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| Only bright sadness, and nostalgia for old friends,
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| Run away from her, it's like running away from yourself,
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| She took away the days with leaf fall and swirled in herself.
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| Chorus:
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| It circles with leaf fall, and falls under your feet,
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| Yellow outfits, numbers and dates,
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| With restless dreams, slender girls,
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| Worthy thoughts and free ways.
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| How can I disentangle such an autumn in myself - survive,
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| Leaves of days, throw under your feet, so as not to trample the soul,
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| A newcomer in heavenly gardens, having flown away not circling,
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| And not perish, burning in the silent fire of indifference.
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| The door is wide open in memory, to a hoarse motive,
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| I am cold with autumn nostalgia, like drafts,
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| And the past sadness, picking up the guitar string,
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| It circles around the boundless earth with eternal leaf fall.
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| Chorus:
|
| It circles with leaf fall, and falls under your feet,
|
| Yellow outfits, numbers and dates,
|
| With restless dreams, slender girls,
|
| Worthy thoughts and free ways. |