Autumn's coming in through the yard,
marching like a grandfather clock.
The badges he wears are tattered and old,

like shredded ribbons of bright read and gold.
His arms are stiff and they're sure they're in time,
'cause you can't slow a man with a pendulum down.

no, you can't slow a man with a pendulum down.

In autumn it's hard to keep the mood light,

the puddles get deep and my umbrella was swiped.
You'll find him in the strangest of places,
jangling a coffee cup outside store 24.

But he's not a beggar 'till the cold settles in,
and he swears there's an Indian summer in him.
Oh, he swears there's an Indian summer in him.


Drink from this flask to put warmth in your chest and sing around my piano.
I'm settling in for the long winter months with all of the friends I can handle,

and we'll toast this death of summer months,
and summer warmth,
and summer love.


If your heart starts feeling slow, there's a refrain I know and I'll teach you, it goes
"when we've come down with cabin fever,

and everyone's wearing sweaters
and talking about leaving, we'll know
it's time."


Pack the car,
head out to Vermon,

I'm trading Boston concrete for foliage.
It always feels like I'm on my way out,
chasing seasons down but they never do budge.

Oh, as soon as you're used to one season it moves,
and that's all that you can count on.
That's all that you can count on.


When we've come down with cabin fever
and everyone's wearing sweaters

and talking about leaving we'll know
it's time.