I Don't Think There's Anything

You Told Me Love Was Fickle And Fleeting.

The Circus Looks Abandoned And Empty. But You Think Perhaps You Can Smell Caramel Wafting Through The Evening Breeze, Beneath The Crisp Scent Of The Autumn Leaves. A Subtle Sweetness At The Edges Of The Cold.

Even The Air Feels Different On Halloween, Autumn-crisp And Bright.

And Now, I'm A Best Selling Author, A Different Sort Of Fairy Tale That I Still Sometimes Wonder When I'll Wake Up From.

Before You Leave, The Fortune Teller Reminds You That The Future Is Never Set In Stone.