Leaves are falling at eight

I would not exactly call it
Some kind of celebration
But honoring those who've passed
Is really my intention
So many years without them
Does grant a kind of closure
And I can happily say
Their suffering is over

A toast to more tomorrows at eight

The longer it is you walk in the rain
The more likely that you'll get wet
I didn't know we would walk this long
Or just how far we would get
But, here we are, still doing this thing
Still hanging out at the same joint
And, I suppose, after so may years,
Let's hope this is just the half-point

Still wound up at eight

This work week was but four days
Of tribulations and trials
And it only reminds me
It's not the years but the miles