Tom Waits - November |
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November
Tom Waits No shadow no stars no moon no cars in a pile of dead leaves November it only believes and a moon that's the color of bone No prayers for November we'll slaughter them all to linger longer stick your spoon in the wall November has tied me to rescue me to an old dead tree November's cold chain get word to April and shiny black ravens Made of wet boots and rain November seems odd on chimney smoke lanes November you're my firing squad With my hair slicked back with carrion shellac with the blood from a pheasant tied to the branches and the bone from a hare of a roebuck stag left to wave in the timber like a buck shot flag Go away you rainsnout Novembergo away blow your brains out |
