September is closing soon, I
Its early morn' here, still dark
I'm hearing the roar of the cars on the highway
As off to work they need to go
Occasionally there's the noise of a motorcycle,
But mostly the constant whir of their wheels
I close the door against the morning low
It's cooler now, this is certain.
Instead of the wheels on the road,
Now the ticking of the clock I know.