调：D major
Verse 1
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F#m
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F#m
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Autumn and
but this time of year feels so tender,
I wake up, walk outside,
and feel a crisp bite
the nostrils.
It is incredibly bittersweet.
with the sober understanding
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of how transient an d precious it all is.
It's in the way the golden light catches leaves,
mountains, clouds, grass,
or the hood of my car
releasing that intoxicating
to inhale every atom,
My sensate swooning under the spell of autumn,
isn't that a fucking awesome word, autumn?
It even sounds like it feels,
is undeniable.
But I'm not a hippie,
earthy type by any measure.
My favorite places in the world
three o 'clock in the morning,
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skyscrapers,
I taxis and trains.
museums, theaters, and clubs.
Most of all, I like the wild variety of cultures,
perspectives, and typology.
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because it's in the middle of a metropolis,
like all nature should be.
The outdoors should be preserved and protected,
not encountered or experienced.
Natural beauty is an ugly affair,
and we've got no business
in the bushes.
That's the whole goddamn point of evolution,
A
tional achievement.
I can't wait for the day
I can upload my entire consciousness
into a nano -rocket
and fucking check out of the rest of the exterior cosmos,
yo!
Anyway, my point is just that the incredibly
vulnerable orgasmic feeling
that sets in with autumn,
starting in the belly,
throat, limbs and head,
has nothing to do with tree
-hugging naturism. them.
It's archetypal,
more universal than that.
I think it has to do with
the impermanence
and brevity of human existence,
like those three or four weeks between summer and fall trip
all the tethers between our body and our soul.
For a while, each breath we take in
our fragility and mortality.
The technicolor world
that erupted in numinous hues
a few weeks ago
will soon disappear.
Each life is that way.
From some unknowable no one,
how or why that is.
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what we experience
perceived as a sequence of events.
occasions,
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the way we respond and interpret it all,
forms an incredibly convincing
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ushered in one of the cosmos' greatest innovations,
we're aware that we're aware.
And we reinforce identity
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by locating our self in relation.
Whatever is inside of I is me.
Whatever is outside of
me is an object.
Could be you, could be it, they,
provable fact
and that's all cool,
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F#
the universe is 96 -98 % dark matter,
which is science speak for what
reality is 99 % inscrutable enigma,
at least from the perspective
of an ego.
Our identity, the filter through which we sift
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Ab
all seen and unseen reality,
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is a feature of the illusion.
But we are not just subjects
The relative part of reality
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G
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The ego is part of that.
You're born.
You disappoint some folks,
then you die.
unknowable.
The Absolute has no qualities.
It does not develop or evolve.
It's so deep it's not even
boring.
Hard to say anything meaningful
about the Absolute, as meaning
Brain is a feature of relative reality.
throw it into a paint mixer,
issued as an all -is -nothing,
and you'll still be
fellating the phallus of futility.
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message.
and recognizing its veracity.
That's no metaphor,
no poetic license.
The part of you that is aware,
that you are aware, is dead,
literally excarnated,
the gateless gate.
You have always been dead,
because you are unborn.
about unborn and undying.
No big deal.
What's the risk?
in a matter of moments.
We are born in the present,
we live in the present,
we die in the present.
in the present?
mofo.
Autumn is one breath. breath,
A
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