Falling Leaves

I'm sure it comes as no surprise,
someone would write to you.
It's definitely controversial,
and just as much taboo.
But I love you.

I heard you when you sang "forgive me"
or when you scared the crowds in Illinois,
by proclaiming what everybody there had had in mind.
But you sang those ancient songs, with such
conviction.
I could have sworn you told the truth.

As hard as you said relating was,
friend, you were there.
to share.
but time is full of new,
those who think they can escape
need only look at you.
To see the truth.

If it's discretion that you seek,
to understand hypocrisy.
I'm afraid I can't help you.
I don't see too much of me.
As I faintly disappear,
between the sins, the love and fear.

You can say I'm a shit talker.
I would probably agree.
But I've never sang those hymns off key
dishonestly.
I'm on an airplane headed south,
with a guitar and a running mouth.
I don't really listen,
except when I can tell, right then,
that I'll benefit from it.

I've never felt like I'm losing a friend,
whose not even dead.
But the longer I lay here,
the weaker I feel.
I know I can't stop what time has planned.
the way we progress,
or misunderstand.
But, if you want,
I'm here to talk,
or maybe start a band.