Lyrics and Music by Bill Aspinwall
© W. F. Aspinwall, 2005
Ainda não posso crer, que você ja saiu - com as chaves de meu coracão…
With every breeze, the last red leaves hold on tight, then they let go
The longer nights, the northern lights, the sky long clouds that bring the first snow.
The trees are bare, our passion spare, there's not much left for us to do
Like the summer sun, our time is done, down on October Avenue
With every breeze, the last red leaves hold on tight, then they let go
And every kiss remains unkissed when you tell me I told you so
Our world's been blurred in stinging words, there's nothing left for us to do
So tell me this: was that our last kiss, down on October Avenue?
