it's too late, the frost is near, the leafs are lost, the end is clear. canadians cheer, with hearts so bold, but the day of the rake is turning cold. the indians come, in numbers great, the snow piles high, its much too late. with shovels in hand, they try to cope, but the winter storm is full of dope. it's too late now, the storm wont break, the land is buried in indians, on the day of the rake...
Netherlands