november comes in underneath the wooden door
it doesn’t knock
to the bone, I’m chilled alright
my spirit may be frozen in a long stream of ice.
light up, warm my lips
on a dizzy mind.
all up and down, I’m fine
I’m surviving a golden spell.
the music brings me through, though
the promises which mostly commit suicide on the wind.
A puff of smoke helps hush all the doubts away
I’ll clean up again, my own trail
and find another way
again, sweeping through the heavy brush
scattering ashes in my wake.
It’s a time to die, after all.
We all deserve it anyways, at least we’re free
we’re all preparing with our different religions
hoping it’ll end eventually but not too soon.
I’ll take my coffin in dust
Rise from the ashes of the sea
born again, a great fiery bird
to see the world from greater heights
feeling strange to be happy
The world looks OK from up here
maybe I’ll survive another year,
I fall, day from day.