Indian Summer

Indian Summer

It’s getting late,
The birds have flown

There’s a hint of
winter in the air

and the crops have all
been grown

The sun sinks low, behind
the ridge

All I can say is that it’s
been a privilege

The seeds of change ride
on the wind

Casting longer shadows

that further bend the limb

As we go on, we learn to
pick

the fruits of our labor

while we cheat the mad
man’s trick

Indian Summer, Seasons
shift

The last leaf has fallen,
the harvest has been sewn

and so the hangman’s
found no rope today

hey ey hey...

In God we trust, In love
we live

In the end we find we get
back all that we give

With an open heart, with
an open mind

We discover it’s the
truth for all mankind

It’s getting late,
as father time

approaches like a reaper

and we make the final
climb

and with open arms, we let
him in

knowing when the race is
run, it’s back to dust again, yeah

Another Indian summer...

The Cowboy drifts.. Mmmm
drift on...

Words by: Sandy
Madaris