November

The days are long and empty

The nights are cold and bare

The morning's like a dagger

Slicing through me

I go through all the motions

But I just can't seem to care

I'm just pushing through each day

And November is oh, so very, very far away

I'd count the days and hours

But numbers aren't my thing

Neither are cards and flowers

I must confess

I call you twice a day but

Ten minutes is too short

For a hundred things to say

And November is oh, so very, very far away

Yes, November is so very, very far away

Yeah, November is so very, very far away

Sleep well, do you dream of me?

I dream of you, a hundred times a day.

Sleep well, do you dream of me?

I dream of you, a hundred times a day.