'Twas spring season, we read the book of our own story under the emerald leaves of an oak tree, savouring the spice of our love.
And today is the season of autumn, the season when everything falls apart. The season when our love becomes wither and fades away.
Under this lifeless oak tree, here I am, reading the heartbreaking ending of our tale.
You are gone, and I guess, I will spend my cold winter nights forlorn.
