Welcome to transition, disguised by current choice,
A sense for prediction, our friends tense with anticipation,
We listen to a fading plea: please give your strength for this need. Friends, friends, detached, we are not strong, and sorrow is the loudest song.

Blind to the times, the many carry on.
This season is current, particular at the present,
Wakeup winter close enough, we feel disaster at the corners.
I pray the beauty will be near. Smile, suppress my fear.
Beauty of this world, pleasant as we breathe,
Yellows of soft smells draft within my ear,
Take it in, we hope it lasts; we hope friends remain.
Approval and acceptance are two words of different meaning.

Remember the colors of today,
The third season wanes,
Remember friends from yesterday,
Love seems to fade.
It is now blind autumn in this time and place,
Some have seen it and formed deep frowns,
Look for the mark; it has been found,
There lingers a memory of forgotten worth.

Welcome to transition, disguised by current choice,
A sense for prediction, our friends tense with anticipation,
We listen to a fading plea: please give your strength for this need. Friends, friends, detached, we are not strong, and sorrow is the loudest song.

We, the people of these times, live without eyes.
Blind, not fully understanding what is going down,
This earth patiently ages; its caretakers have let it go,
A sickly brush has grown over decomposing roots.
Those who see, find clear purpose, some believe.
Some find many reasons, and now have grabbed their pack,
Words of delicate construction search for common ground,
The decision been made to fend for much; could say, lion-hearts born to act.

Remember the colors of today,
The third season wanes,
Remember friends from yesterday,
Love seems to fade.
In every face, we see a chance,
For man has what is given him,
A task to care, to take this land,
Work it, help it, rid it of the creeping mad.

Welcome to transition, disguised by current choice,
A sense for prediction, our friends tense with anticipation,
We listen to a fading plea: please give your strength for this need. Friends, friends, detached, we are not strong, and sorrow is the loudest song.

This place, common and diverse in trait,
Is at a point of stress. No longer is it balanced,
Memory carries with it history, much of the distress,
Worn down by years of burden, this soil has known many sorrows.
Of vibrant detail shines this world filled to the brim,
But like a heavy scar across its back, it wears.
The unfortunate tasks of man stretch our hope thin,
Once strong, now grayed by each blow of man. Rest is not given.

Remember the colors of today,
The third season wanes,
Remember friends from yesterday,
Love seems to fade.
By broken green and broken hearts,
Choice remains beside us now,
Push on as we slide by choked-out life,
Sunsets of splendor could arrive.