I want to live in octoberland
where it's always fall,
and the fields are full
with a harvest-song
as the day grows tall
with shadows of trees
in their rusting coats
they will rustle them off
in the evenings, though
as we all head to hall
for a sort of fest
with our foaming steins
and our steaming brats
we'll sing bawdy songs
and be very much blest
but until that day,
when I find that land
I will do my best to be blest
as I am
to appreciate spring
where I live today
finding beauty in such
little things, as
may
Me, too. It's my favorite month.
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