November

She's an ocean
No...she's a song
She's the lotion
I've been running through my hands
Just like a grape stem
Dripping on the vine
She's a doorknob
Take a turn
And go

He lives in autumn
With a leaf-drop
He wears his headphones
To drown out all the sound
Come November
He'll be dropping off his semen
And tired of being alone again

Scarecrows and cornfields are wasting away
Like a snowman basking in the sun
Be sure to send a postcard if the seasons change
Cause my own decreation gets me by

They've only met three times
And each time it's a gas
He keeps wishing her away
She's an object
She has a master
She keeps wanting him to stay
Dumb

It gets me by
It gets me by
Goodbye