When autumn unfolds its maroon veil
And staineth my blankets with deep purple,
Don’t look into my eyes, no more,
Don’t take my hands, for they’re hollow.
When feathered clouds thin away
Into the crimson line of the horizon,
And darkness gathers upon the empty skies,
Don’t look into my eyes, for they’re weary.
When winds are high over my land
And my
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