About a love-that-never-was, about the guitar-playing wisp of a girl in a hat and diaphanous scarves, and about trying to paint the song in the colors of a far-away, timeless autumn...

She may have tipped her hat more than once... She may have thrown a wave on some chrome-skied afternoon... She may have let a smile slip when I kissed her hand... She may be wondering where I choose to be... I've seen us slowly wax/quickly wane... There's no more cause for the seasons not to change... She may have tipped a wink more than once... She may have thrown a glance on some amber afternoon... And as we meet from different sides of the door, the grey curtain of rain frames her hair in mist. She gazes at me from the depths of her cloudy eyes... the smoky blue silently working its spell...