Little bird, I followed you into the hollow
Where the trees, so proud and charming, stood dressed for splendid rest
Crimson and Gold, last remnants of summer's bellow
When I enter, lo-and-behold, they're ready for slumber
In decay I see a beauty that comes from wizened years
Little bird, sing them a requiem, sing them to sleep
Sing for me
Crimson and Gold, last remnants of summer's bellow
When I enter, lo-and-behold, they're ready for slumber
Proudly we stand, enraptured by the coming winter
The unknown beckons again for uncertain slumber
Lying there, under storied-oaks, where the wind rushed a song into my bones
Let go of your frame, you've only the lend of it, I suppose
Until you awake
Crimson and Gold, last remnants of summer's bellow
When I enter, lo-and-behold, they're ready for slumber
Proudly we stand, enraptured by the coming winter
The unknown beckons again for uncertain slumber
