These Buildings Won't Be Here Forever

Maybe the Spring will come tomorrow and bring the rain.
Maybe I'll learn to drown my sorrow in the puddles again.
They say clouds don't look as gray when standing from faraway,
But they do. They do.

If a cast-iron lung is breathing water in
Then my little heart has sunk down to the bottom again.
They say sunken hearts resurface, they can't die herein,
But they do. They do.

All the busy streets and hurried feet are running on ice.
The bidders in the coffee shop are naming their price.
No, they don't think twice about it if they lose,
But they do. They do.

In the Fall the leaves will fall
As the trees stand up tall.
In the coming years they'll become souvenirs to the earth.
They'll disappear. You'll forget their worth.

They're now the ground that holds the trees up.
They're now the ground upon which you and I walk on.

Maybe the Spring will come tomorrow and bring the rain.
Maybe I'll learn to drown my sorrow in the puddles again.
They say clouds don't look as gray when you scare them away.
Paint 'em blue. Paint 'em blue.

- afm