Françoise Hardy
Françoise Hardy
Françoise Hardy
Françoise Hardy
Françoise Hardy
Françoise Hardy
Françoise Hardy
Françoise Hardy
Françoise Hardy
Françoise Hardy
Françoise Hardy
When crinkled brown leaves of autumn
Lay soft upon the ground
Waiting for the winter wind
To blow them all around
I can hear your last words
As you turned across the hill
Grieve you not, the way you do
I'll be home with you, soon
But soon is slipping away my love
Like a shadow on a windy sea
I was hoping that I'd hear you say by now
You're coming back to me
Soon is slipping away my sweet
And there's still not a word to say
I was hoping that I'd hear you cry my love
You're coming back to stay
Remember summers sapwood
That burns now in my grate
With flicker flames that seem to say
Unwise you are to wait
I recall your last words
As you walked into the sun
Grieve you not, the way you do
I'll be home with you, soon
But soon is slipping away my love
Like a shadow on a windy sea
I was hoping that I'd hear you say by now
You're coming back to me
Soon is slipping away my sweet
And there's still not a word to say
I was hoping that I'd hear you cry my love
You're coming home to stay