To life, to love, to loss, to absent friends,
to every emptiness we cannot fill:
November’s started. Let’s hope this one ends.
Everybody knows, yet each pretends
that one can shape the world around one’s will.
To life, to love, to loss, to absent friends,
A wall imprisons all that it defends.
I’ll watch you from my tower on the hill.
November’s started. Let’s hope this one ends.
We all know what the prophecy portends:
a crow, a wedding ring, a poison pill.
To life, to love, to loss, to absent friends.
The breathing labours, and the heart descends;
a final rattle before all is still.
November’s started. Let’s hope this one ends.
You must accept, though no one comprehends,
the knowledge all great tragedies instil.
To life, to love, to loss, to absent friends:
November’s started. Let’s hope this one ends.
