These Sycamore Leaves

These Sycamore Leaves

I'm just as disposable
as all these sycamore leaves
And replaceable to
I could make just as good'a ground cover
probably with less noise
I would fall just the same
maybe a bit harder
with a little more pain
I would turn gray
not this burnt, faded orange
your footsteps would smash me
between the gravel
between the dirt, the sticks
feeding life all around me
being dead myself
these sycamore leaves
dead as dead can be
dead as you or me
whilting, drying, decaying
with still thousands
millions
billions left to fall
die
yes,
I'm replaceable to
I'm replaceable to...