The sugarbush has no leaves. Its standing naked with the other trees. The mountainside is all dusted with snow. Under an autumn sky, a winter wind blows.
The seasons change under this sky, continuous change, even after we die. And nothing is constant, nothing is wrong. Nothing remains the same for very long.
The times might be bad, and the times might be good. But whats the big deal when you have to stack wood? The seasons will be changing before very long. Nothing can stop it, and this isn't wrong.
Oh no, blow wind blow. Turn up your collar, the sky is spitting snow. Oh no, blow wind blow. Wintertimes coming, so let summer go