The Mo(u)rning

Long walks, long talks under the south sky, we knew it was love
December, snowflakes, cold night but you made it warm
White gown, black suits, sweet vows, but that’s not how it ends
Black lies, midnight fights, angry cries, we know it’s not love (not anymore)

This is the morning where the French man curses Paris
This is the morning where the sun loses its light
This is the morning where promises become lies
This is the morning where are love kisses the lips of goodbye

Chorus:
Because on the eighteenth, summer turns to winter
All that we have withers
Everything warm and bright fades on the arm of September
I can taste my tears, I can feel my fears
You walk away with no words of love to remember

Whiskey, dancing under the night sky, I have heard you died
November, tears fall, sorrow cripples like a thief
Ugly box, pale cheeks, another goodbye, I pray to see you breathe
Regrets, lost love, indecent goodbyes, you left me twice

This is the morning where the French man turns to dust
This is the morning where he takes his life
This is the morning where memories fake the aches
This is the morning where even million tears can’t bring you back

Chorus:
Because on the eighteenth, summer turns to winter
All that we have withers
Everything warm and bright fades on the arm of September
I can taste my tears, I can feel my fears
You walk away with no words of love to remember

Coda:
Your awkward smile, your deep blue eyes
Old  photos will remind they’re once alive
Your broken dreams with an unfinished song
No more Tuesday nights for you to sing along

Because on the eighteenth of September there’s no morning, only mourning