Every autumn the roses fade away
And when they do, bees cease to fly...

I take this chore
I hate it...

Why is it I am always drawn to it?
At what cost is what I seek...

Have you ever given your all?
And to your heart be fully true...

I can draw a pretty picture
And some may call it art...

Once again I'm traveling
I know not where I'm going...

Sat on the door step with a beer in one hand.
A cigarette in the other...

I see the funny side in everything
And sometimes I feel ashamed...

A man may build a fire
And like moths we seek the flame...

She was not simply my betrothed
Not just my lover or my wife...

If beauty doth honestly and truly be the sole...
Then truly my eyes belong only unto you...

Measure your footsteps carefully
Be wary of where you tread...