Water pouring down on the grass
That's dying as it grows
I stopped and spoke a while to a man
Who owns more than he knows
The dusk was dark for an August night so I couldn't see
If things looked right when he asked me how did it used to be

We talked about the rooms behind the walls,
That window there was mine
While stood a fading ghost beneath a shroud
That sagged in its decline
He said his name after an August day when we needed rain
I shook his hand and then a good old friend drove me to the train

It felt so old and strange, a light was gone
That always burned so bright
One day I might return, but not for long,
I couldn't bear the sight
Misshapen trees under an August sky and I don't belong
It's best to keep favorite pictures framed when the model's gone
Deep inside a drawer where they just live on in your mind

The dusk was dark for an August night so I couldn't see
If things looked right when he asked me how did it used to be
But I couldn't say all it meant to me if I tried

Sweet August night, sad August light