It's a secret.
An ancient secret,
Only known by two.
If others knew they
would end the
world.
Their world.
So they hide it,
trying to live 'till
next October.
Questions fly like
songbirds here.
You can never
catch them,
only listen.
We wear smiles with
our jackets to
stay out of
the rain.
They say it'll be
alright, next October;
but they're too
scared to open
their eyes.
Soon people will know
the secret like
an ancient tune.
The two will disappear.
They'll never see
next October.
