November swings around again
The pendulum of misery
Take the dagger in your hand, and
Sever the coin joined to the string.
November air will chill the spine
Of children happiness forgot
I’m far too old for it this time
But fresh-born babes will feel the rot
November, beauty though you hold
You have made a mess of me
You mused the silly rhymes of old
And my odes to our chemistry
November, burn my heaving lungs
For they will never take me far
Something of a sad man I’ve become
Weary and hanging from your pendulum
My knees shake with anticipation
Of your beauty, of your grace
You are evil. You are dark.
You put a smile upon my face.
I love you, winter. Precious night.
Precious death, O precious fright
O precious pain, dear misery
You steal my breath each time you swing.
--
As one might guess, I wrote this 3 months ago. Opinions, critique, and abuse welcomed and encouraged.
(And props if you cought any influence from a particular lyricist)