Moth on the windowpane,
could be alive or dead
You across the room,
lost in your head
All that's left is the storm outside,
water beating stone
And we hang in a web of stillness,
all our own
Two hearts,
bundled to the cold
Closed eyes,
watching love grow old
Dear friend,
can it really be November?
Season of goodbye,
under an angry taupe sky Neap tied in a waning moon gone mad
Like a song I heard as a little boy
that I did not understand
But somehow I knew
it was sad
Two hearts,
bundled to the cold
Closed eyes,
watching love grow old
Oh dear friend,
can it really be November?
Time wills, oh and time
kills Bitter trees
won't remember you
Two hearts,
in the failing light
No blame,
doing what seems right
But the rain won't stop,
can it really be?