Novembre

More and more
the rain lingers on
war only was
to bond us all
Hell no, no war can paint this more sore
the path is packed with bags of coal
And bags of coal from some monstruous soul
and no, no rain can clean this at all
You say, "there's no way-out at all" is something false
but way-out, if it is not far is still getting narrow
The prayers for light result in failure and dismay
but almost yawn, it's a deja-vu sounding horror
Someday I'll take you by the hand