Farewell Along the Seasons

Don't meet me again at the spring park, sugarbox;

along with your favourite sky-colored dress.

Don't greet me with your enamor smiles and then just tell a goodbye;

'cause I know how those words would hurt like.

Don't tell me that lame 'Isaac and his apple' joke;

'Cause I know the joke will say that we aren't destined like Isaac and his apple;

we aren't suppose to be.

Summer toast the air like there's no tomorrow;

scattering all my mind and words.
So I keep myself at home, undare the world.

As I sprawl on my bed, I wonder;

if I lay here, if I just lay here;

would you lie with me and just forget the world?

  

To live a life where you leave before the leaves leave;

from a least-crowned tree at the bottom of autumn.

When the wind blows them gone, I thought I won't care where or how it goes.

It's really not about how to make puzzle from the leaves;

it's how to see how half of my sense crumbling along then tell myself I'm fine.

I might mistaken snowflakes in your howling eyes at the winter;

they're colder than how they really are, though.

I can't withhold the freezing that penetrate into my heart;

and waching how those snowflakes would melts and drips.

The snow or your eyes, which one would melt now?

It's cruel as how the seasons tell me I'm trying to let you go;

but keep insisting to form as you.