November ~ Tom Waits No shadows, no stars Theres no moon and no cars November It only believes In a pile of dead leaves And a moon thats the color of bone No prayers for November To linger longer Stick your spoon in the wall And well slaughter them all November has tied me to an old dead tree Get word to April to rescue me Novembers cold chain Made of wet boots and rain Shiny black ravens On chimney smoke lanes November seems odd Youre my firing squad November With my hair slicked back With carrion shellac And the blood from a pheasant And the bone from a hare Tied to the branches Of a roebuck stag Left to wave in the timber Like a buck shot flag Go away you rainsnout Go away blow your brains out November
Posted on: Mon, 17 Nov 2014 21:21:25 +0000
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