They're cutting down trees before the coming snow
So dying limbs in violent winds won't tear apart our home
I've held out my arms in the same storms before
But it's been a long year and I'm not sure I can hold the weight on my own
If the blues run the game, then whose side am I on?
Hustling sadness for satisfaction and finding a feeling I lost
As I collapse in a pile of cigarettes
Edges of feathers and faded reflections frame a final act
Buried in the wreck
Waking up with a new regret
Sudden April storms
Take me back to the failures of the fall