In a landscape tattered with leaves fallen I am asked to leave them soon, to be forgotten. Those corpses lie rotten fertilizer for the spring bloom, that's what they have begotten.
From Tottenham to Queenstown, people ask me to rid the frown caused by those that fell down. For the plum blossoms of spring will color pink, And bloodless the leaves fall, yet I still see red. For the happiness at Mount Hua will reach it's brink And they say "purposeless, thee stalls, looking over the dead."
For I know I shall reach the summit, All I have to do is climb. Assured that I have the stomach, to endure these arduous times.
Told to move forward For what? I don't recall. Told to listen to the spring's call yet I still ponder, What of the autumn leaves that fall?
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