text: 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
  And 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 buckshot flag
  Go away, you rainsnout
  Go away, blow your brains out
  November