Autumn

Baby's back from New York City

Blowin up and down the street

Crying like the running gutters

Crumbles like the autumn leaves

Dancing by the lazy susan

Down for anything

   

And everything is boring x2

Fickle were the daylight hours

Forgetting all the neighbors names

Gathering the morning papers

Give in to the old mundane

A hobby's just a dying habit (lower)

Hours stringing into days

And everything is boring x2

In the end we don't have to be innocent

We both know that it's infinite

And you don't have to be different

Eat your porridge with cinnamon

It's just a fish bowl we're living in

And everything is boring x2