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• Artiste: Cousteau
• Titre: Last Good Day Of The Year
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Don't tell me that you get sick of living when the summer's so forgiving although we have stolen all of the things that we though we had owned then have disappeared all these things in flavour won't do you no favours when the summer's light is fragrant with scents of returning you relent, you resent, now you're burning for nothing to change.... there's something there... (amongst the fallen fruit and flowers) won't rest (only minutes, only hours) unless (now the morning breaks in showers) I guess we'll remember this all of our lives on the Last Good Day of The Year all the leaves are turning Autumn's fingers burnished furnished here in hope and in faith in the meantime kinda working my way through a dream I was having alone there's something there... (amongst the fallen fruit and flowers) won't rest (only minutes, only hours) unless (now the morning breaks in showers) I'm left with the North Wind breathing down my neck... on The Last Good Day of The Year..... (don't know where I end and where you begin...)