As the seasons change, everything becomes strange.
Nothing stays the same, but who is there to blame?
We can blame it on me, but soon even you’ll see.
We can blame it on you, but you know it isn’t true.
It’s simply nature’s course, no reason for our remorse.
Inevitable is the end of time, it’s no great crime.
We can blame it on fate, but who’ll bite that bait?
We can blame it on God, but that’s just a facade.
“That’s the way it’s meant,” comes the message, heaven sent.
There’s nothing left to do, except to let go of you.
We can blame it on the stars above, and defy all of our love.
We can blame it on the rain, but that too, is insane.
As the seasons continue to pass by, I begin to wish it were a lie.
And now all that is left, is this feeling of a theft.
The blame, placed on life, cuts your soul like a knife.
But that’s the way it’s to be, it’s for the best, trust me.