In the autumn of my madness when my hair is turning grey
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for the milk has finally curdled and I've nothing left to say
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When all my thoughts are spoken (save my last departing birds)
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bring all my friends unto me and I'll strangle them with words
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In the autumn of my madness which in coming won't be long
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for the nights are now much darker and the daylight's not so strong
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and the things which I believed in are no longer quite enough
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for the knowing is much harder and the going's getting rough
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In the Autumn of My Madness
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| Procol Harum |
