Turning around, like the sea, brush the ground. Turning around, I know this season well, as the light in your eyes. Turning around, like the shadow moves across your face. Turning around, you'll know me by the sound, and the sound that you know me by goes ... Running my fingers over, moving through the longer days. The light it makes my shadows longer, moving slow to match your pace. Turning around, trailing close with each step made. Familiar as buds in springtime, stretching out from winter fade. And it falls, and I fall too