Saying Goodbye, Folding the Clothes

A new September holds me in the crook of its arm
A blue river winding, she is born of the fall
And if I must lie down, I will lie where it's warm
Out by the fire, where I mourn it before it's gone

No matter what I do, the book ends the same
And if I held a firefly in my hand, it'd fly away
It is the voiceless pain that lingers, the lone match burns on
The sun flees to August swells, and it will never be back again

Saying goodbye (goodbye)
Saying goodbye (goodbye)
Folding the clothes
Folding the clothes (folding the clothes)
Saying goodbye (goodbye)
Saying goodbye (saying goodbye)
Folding the clothes (folding the clothes)
Folding the clothes (folding the clothes)



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