Текст песни Platters, The - September song

Oh, it's a long, long while from May, May to December, But the days grow short when you reach September. When the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame, One hasn't got time for the waiting game. Oh, the days dwindle down to a precious few: September, November... And these few precious days I'll spend with you, These precious days I'll spend with you.
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