Tops

The trees are naked but at their tops
The last leaves are fighting for what they've got
Days growing shorter and I'm still lost
And I've been wishing for what I'm not

Dreams, vivid like the morning
Like the air, the cold on of its first morning
Remember the night that I lost my soul there
Slowly giving every existent, what then

Choking out the words you made them right
Said you heard the instinct in that night
Miles of goddamn mighty army
Saying it's no latin, it's so holy