I should write you October
and I swear I tried, but pens
aren't ribbons, and this time ink isn't red.
The autumn wind whips through the fens.
The chorus line is silent and sober.
The lead singer was found dead
under the bridge. (Haha get it?)
I knew it was stupid soon as I said it.
I swear I tried to write you October
but my heart heavy head
is full of Autumn clovers
and fickle friends.