Chickadee tosses leaves out of her nester
My uncle's uncle's uncles fester
To Chesnutt's empty sound
One by one they hit the ground
It's fall, and it's warm, and I've got a sweater
Tell me nothing, nothing's better
The flowers wilt from the weight of the leaves
But it's not the cold, it's the dryness
That makes it so groovy
Believe you me
Believe me you
Let it roll
God cues his trees to drop their load
I've got some used cowboy boots
You've got some weed?
It's a noisy, cracked accumulation
Of golden brown, Mr. Brown's firstborn
Can anyone get it?
It's not too obvious
Two friends locked in a Dutch romance
It's the angry middle-aged distraction
Your postman stumbles in the yard
With a message long
You communicate through song
And take it up with the vicar
Believe you me
Believe me you
Grateful for the score
The nuts today you store
Could come in handy in the future
Grateful for the score
The nuts today you store
Could come in handy in the future
