The colors that Fall wears when she's dying
leave me not knowing what to say,
I usually have just the right wisdom
when someone or something passes away.

But I waste my two-in-the-morning's
searching for things that don't exist,
trying to relieve the pain
that has me clenching tight my fist

ready to throw a punch at anyone
who looks at me the wrong way,
angry at the cold early mornings
that leave me nothing else to say.