There is one in every moon
In the false light of the moon
there is one in every reflection
In the fading light of twilight
the feeling comes on soon
Like little drops of silver
or the gentle drop of leaves
It comes at Autumn tither
when one comes to brereave
In a more starkly tonal light
in a deathly black and white
We see something of ourselves
How we have thus come to dwell
The drink is bitter and sweet
if you follow the correct street home
and if the path is narrow
with a past and a tomorrow
there is one in every reflection
In the fading light of twilight
the feeling comes on soon
Like little drops of silver
or the gentle drop of leaves
It comes at Autumn tither
when one comes to brereave
In a more starkly tonal light
in a deathly black and white
We see something of ourselves
How we have thus come to dwell
The drink is bitter and sweet
if you follow the correct street home
and if the path is narrow
with a past and a tomorrow
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