Transcribed by:

The Original Lyrics File

Brian Whitman





The screen door to the farmer's porch

To the back porch to the backlands

Is never left closed



A new air pushed a full wind

That brought worlds on through

That only he could know



As the last of November passed

His new life with his new wife

She said she was feeling a little cold



The ghost of a clown just danced in and

Did a few tricks and danced out again

Warming a farmer's soul



Summer was all there was

We were working breathing heat

'Till rising out of control



Along came a breeze

Wrapped our heads and around our spines

Cool air off a burning floor



The morning's breaking woke us long enough

We were sure we could see

The whole of some older birds

Riding to the ground on the falling leaves

Riding to the ground on some falling leaves

One last time

One last time

To feed