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The leaf, it flutters…flutters…fluttering, trembling…still fluttering. It clings, it claws, it keeps…it keeps to the branch. It keeps fluttering. The wind, it howls, it blows…it howls at the tree. It’s bellowing. You are the wind that blows. I am the leaf that’s now falling. You’re the death of me; a beckoning into insanity. You’re the death of me. You pull my puppet-strings to the will of thee. You’re the death of me. We are such feeble things…such feeble little things, feebly gasping. We breathe a breath…we breathe…we gasp for the breath that’s so fleeting. I am the one who breathes, who is pleading once more to breathe. You are my breath. You are my last. You are the death of me. You’re the death of me; a beckoning into insanity. You’re the death of me. You pull my puppet-strings to the will of thee. You’re the death of me…death of me…death of me. The wind, it howls…it blows…it howls at the tree. It’s bellowing. You are the wind that blows. I am the leaf that’s now falling. From Letras Mania