Oh how sweet November is feeding on my Christmas soul

The bells, the lights, and the smiles all ready to be consumed

The gardens of flowers and the rampant streets passing by in the cold nights of November- how alcohol affects the minds we speak

I found myself in front of the distant stars in a thursday night of reckless daydreaming on how joyful the celebration is

the youth embracement, society faded, and the fuccbois are screaming "long live the alcohol!" and the celebration bleeds out on its own so-

I went outside and saw the girl who might have fixed my world- "How small and joyful world our lives is" I say- and she left with disgust

Oh how sweet November is feeding on my Christmas soul