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Autumn stepping forward to take over from Summer. Who doesn't want to bow out. Lyrics [Verse 1] Oh, Summer, stubborn flame, look at you, standing too long where farmlands overgrew. The fields lean heavy under borrowed sun, the proof of all the labor you have done. The rivers slow and rest their measured song. Even the days admit they've grown too long. You’ve kept the fire upon the field, It’s beyond the time for you to yield. [Pre-Chorus] You will bow, as every season must, when strength gives way to time and trust. My court ascends in measure, not haste, the Crown of Harvest shall rise to take its place. [Chorus] You step back. The long days close. The wheel turns slow where heat once rose. I gather softly every grain and vine, hold what was yours and make it mine. To break what’s spent so roots may feed, I am the gentle decay, the next turning's need. Lay it down, Summer. Step aside. I’ll see the cycle through on harvest tide. [Verse 2] Oh Summer, stubborn flame, you've nothing to prove, as if release could lessen what you moved. But even heat must learn to wane, or spoil the fields it tried to reign. See the orchards bowed with fruit, hear branches ache beneath their loaded truth. You've left nothing here undone. This is how abundance comes. [Pre-Chorus] You must take your bow; your time has reached its end. My court awakens, ready to harvest and mend. What ripened must pass into my hand. The final change is mine to command. [Chorus] You step back. The long days close. The wheel turns slow where heat once rose. I gather softly every grain and vine, hold what was yours and make it mine. To break what’s spent so roots may feed, I am the gentle decay, the next turning's need. Go now, Summer. The land is sound. I’ll keep the balance as leaves turn brown. [Bridge] I take what grew and set it right, not all must blaze to earn its light. I slow the world, I count, I tend, so what was spent can start again. I sit where the fallen feed the ground, decay is not undoing; it’s how I’m crowned. [Final Pre-Chorus] My court tends the fields you grew, the shifting crown of change is due. So Summer finally bows, unashamed, Now Autumn in Abundance reigns. [Final Chorus] You step back. The long days close. The wheel turns slow where heat once rose. I gather softly every grain and vine, hold what was yours and make it mine. To break what’s spent so roots may feed, I am the gentle decay, the next turning's need. Take a reprieve, Summer. The light must fade. I shall keep all that you have laid.