When the leaving birds fill the storm grey sky
And the green, green leaves turn away and die
And the once warm sun has to run and hide
And the winter clouds begin their stormy ride
Cold black shadows cross my eyes
And help to make me realize
You've gone, oh, cold autumn Sunday
Still I'll walk alone the path we shared
And I'll try to recreate the love we had
For you were my life and my heart is sad
And it's strange how autumn used to make me glad
Only now an empty sky is there
To let me know how much I care
You've gone, oh, cold autumn Sunday
I'm near to dying
No use denying that it's true
Spend my whole time crying
Finding ways of trying not to be blue
Oh, over you
I'm near to dying
No use denying that it's true
Spend my whole time crying
Finding ways of trying not to be blue
Oh, over you
When the leaving birds fill the storm grey sky
And the green, green leaves turn away and die
And the once warm sun has to run and hide
And the winter clouds begin their stormy ride
Cold black shadows cross my eyes
And help to make me realize
You've gone, oh, cold autumn Sunday
Cold Autumn Sunday was written by Ken Hensley.
Cold Autumn Sunday was produced by Gerry Bron.